


A Rube Goldberg Machine Of Idiots: The Assembly

by Cranky_Tanky



Series: A Rube Goldberg Machine of Idiots [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Empurata, F/M, Functionists, Gay Robots, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mature for robot violence?, Mature for swearing, Swearing, Tagging for non-con because emotional coercion, The Senate fucking this thing right babey, Transformers - Freeform, and here we have more emotional manipulation ooh goody, grand Cybertronian taxonomy, gratuitous use of vape pens, i say the fuck word a lot, reading politically inflammatory material like a bad citizen, tarn shows up. that's always good y'know. things certainly end well there, which is only one of those three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/pseuds/Cranky_Tanky
Summary: In Which Computers Really Do Mess With Your Head (in a way), A Stage Is Set, And Things Go Fuckways Fast :)





	1. Read Books, Kids, Too Much Computer Is Bad For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome to my work. This heavily features my own original characters in the IDW universe. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Gadget collapsed into the chair next to her friend Dropthing, venting heavily and slamming back a shot of bad engex. She and her work buddies had come to the shitty neighborhood bar downtown, after their shift at work.

Dropthing nudged her with his elbow, grinning.  
“Hey. Good job today.”

“The loads just get heavier and heavier, don’t they,” Gadget laughed, three wheels on her back spinning lazily. The rims were flush to her backplates, making the two cresting just above her shoulders blur.

“Ain't that the truth,” another manual-class mech grumbled, at the table. Dropthing smiled, again. The crane was a bit of a coward, but after a couple shots of engex he was starting to loosen up.

  
It was after an hour of casual drinking that Gadget managed to fuck it up.

“Yeah, they should've killed like, literally anybody else except Senator WhatsHisFuck,” she giggled, tipsy.

All bots at the table froze. The bar carried on, unaware of the sudden sense of danger. The lights were still dim, the floor still dingy, the engex still cheap. The bartender was still telling that one seat-warmer that they'd had enough for the night, the flickering lighted signs on the walls still buzzing.

Gadget’s laughter eased off.  
“What? I'm right.”

“Gadget, you can't just say that stuff,” Dropthing laughed again, but it was nervous and forced.  
“That’s really dangerous. For like, all of us.”

“Listen, what happens at Slickers stays at Slickers, okay?”

After that, they relaxed, and hesitantly started up conversation again. It didn't last long, bots still rattled from Gadget’s dangerous statement. Voicing displeasure with the government was...inadvisable, at best.

The group split up and promised to see each other again, at work. Dropthing and Gadget drove back to their apartment complex together, Dropthing’s treads whirring. Gadget’s altmode was considerably smaller, a three-wheeler with an open top. She was used to carry smaller loads and get into places larger mecha couldn't.

“Shanix for your thoughts,” Gadget stated, about halfway home.

Dropthing hesitated.  
“Gadget, back at Slickers…”

“Yeah. Sorry, it just slipped out. It’s not like you were involved, Drop.”

“Well, I kinda was. Besides, that’s dangerous! You could get arrested.”

“Not if nobody says anything! Besides, complaining is nice. Helps lighten the loads I have to lift.”

Dropthing groaned.  
“You need to learn to keep your intake shut! We’ve got the class system for a reason.”

“Yeah, but it’s a stupid one and you know it,” Gadget countered, as they neared their complex.

“I dunno, Gadge, it makes sense to me that a crane should be in manual.”

“Yeah, but you don't wanna do anything else?”

“Well…”

“Listen.”  
As they reached the entrance, Gadget transformed back into root mode, crossing her arms. Dropthing transformed immediately after her, frown on his faceplates. His yellow hazard striping blazed across his chest, while Gadget’s ran down her arms.

“Listen. Look me in my optics and tell me you want nothing more in your life than lifting slag, and I'll drop it.”

Dropthing quaked, opening his intake to tell her of course that’s all I want…

The air hung still, holding its breath as it waited for his swift reply. The lights in front of the complex hummed, white and bright. They felt hot on his plating, and his treads spun nervously.

He couldn't do it. Primus, he couldn't say it. It scared the scrap out of him, and he just fled into the complex and up to his room.

Gadget just shook her head and plodded up to her own apartment, getting into her shower rack and letting the poorly-pressurized solvent shower wash away the grime and stress.

Clean and relaxed, she exited, drying off and going into her room. In it was a recharge slab with several tattered, old blankets, and a shitty, shitty computer.

Gadget had spent the last few months teaching herself coding and malware construction. The process of intricate code that went into viruses fascinated her, and she was slaggin’ _good_ at it. Teasing out tiny codes made her processor sing.

Of course, a bot in manual class was absolutely forbidden from anything that could possibly be considered close to intellectual. Gadget kept all of her virus files stored off of the cloud, in her computer tower. All of her coding was on-site and she had a penchant for viruses that activated and promptly ate themselves if it caused no damage to the host.

She stared at the computer. She had a virus halfway done. It made a bot sing all of their glyphs. And that was what her malware was like; benign, mostly just annoying.

Ugh. The light from the screen hurt her optics, and she could feel a helmache blooming with fragility. Her arms and legs felt like they were rusted stiff.

She shook her helm, going back to the washroom to stare in the mirror. She’d already washed her face, but honestly she was so tired it felt like her optics were falling out.  
She turned on the faucet, cupped her hands beneath the flow, and splashed her aqua faceplate with solvent, scrubbing at her eyes. She had a delicate nose, with simple optics and pretty lips. Her frame was slim, surprisingly delicate for a manual bot. She was pretty, by manual-class standards. As pretty as a manual bot was allowed to be, really. Plain, but charming enough. Forgettably quaint. Wouldn't do to have her outshine anyone higher-class in the room.

Sighing with irritation, she wiped her face dry and went to collapse on her recharge slab.

  
\-----------

  
Flux woke to her roommate leaving for their shift at the local clinic. It was a bit of a lower-end clinic -- technically the worst in the neighborhood, but they did good work there.

She rose, blinking away sleep, and flexed her wings as she stretched away more stiff grogginess. Shuffling out of her room, she trudged into the kitchen, grabbing a cube and turning on the holovid screen. Morning news played and she slowly woke up, sipping Energon. Her shift wasn't for a few hours.

“Due to the courageous report of a mech who would rather go undesignated, the Senate found and arrested a dangerous terrorist today.”

A picture showed up, and Flux’s wings twitched. It was a mug shot, really. But the bot was...eek, kind of pretty. Flux tended to like plain.

She shook her helm. Thinking terrorists were pretty. What next?

“The terrorist had hundreds of files of malware on her computer, but has been apprehended. Her computer has also been seized and justice has been swift.”

Flux turned off the screen, finishing the Energon.

 

\---------

 

Gadget lay on the table, strapped down so securely all she could do was vent. The table was cold, sterile, and it fit with the room. They'd injected her lines with a numbing agent just so she would shut the fuck up.

“You,” the mech who was about to perform the procedure said, “are quite a problem. Sedition, terrorism…”

_None of the viruses had an activation code_ , Gadget wanted to say. _I only weaponized them if I used them_.

“Yes, quite a problem indeed. You're lucky the Senators are merely annoyed. I think shadowplay would've been a good way to deal with you.”

A small buzzsaw flicked out of the mech’s servo.  
“I think I'll start with your face.”

 

\-------

 

Gadget returned to work a few weeks later with a single optic, a vocalizer able only to produce the most monotone of noises, and pincers for servos.

Dropthing wouldn't meet her gaze. She still drove home next to him.

“I KNOW YOU TOLD THE SENATE,” she droned, after getting halfway home without a word said.  
“IT’S OKAY. I DON’T MIND.”

“Primus, Gadge, I’m so sorry, I just, I just got scared, and I-”

“REALLY DROPTHING, IT’S ALRIGHT.”

“Was it just-”

“YES. IT WAS JUST EMPURATA.”

“You're...you're being so calm.”

Gadget resisted the urge to gloat with “I can still type, can't I?”

Instead, she pulled to a stop outside the apartment and transformed, lights glinting eerily off of her optic ridges.  
“NO SENSE BEING UPSET. I LEARNED MY LESSON.”

Dropthing deflated with relief.  
“Primus, I'm glad. You're okay, though? It doesn't hurt?”

Gadget shook her helm.

“Oh, thank Primus!”  
Dropthing gave her a one-armed hug and said goodnight, retreating to his apartment.

Gadget watched him go up the stairs, door still open, and then went up to her own room.

 

\------------

 

Flux always liked to wrap up a day with reading. On her way to work, she would stop by a cheap datapad store for prose and poetry. Most of the time she would visit a vendor on the street. They were cheaper, and while money wasn't tight, she knew it could easily _get_ that way if she wasn't careful.

One day, the vendor winked at her whilst handing her a datapad.  
“Here. I think you might like this one. How was that epic you bought a week ago?”

“Oh, it was great,” Flux said, beaming as she held the offered datapad.  
“What’s this one?”

“Oh, you know that gladiator, Megatronus? He’s putting out poetry now, they say. Haven't read it, but people are going crazy for it. Thought you might like it. Bots say it’s exquisite.”

“Oh! How much?”

“On the house, sweetspark. Loyal customer reward. Though, if I were you, I wouldn't talk too much about it,” they whispered.  
“Rumor has it it’s a bit...politically inflammatory.”

Startled, Flux glanced at the datapad.

“Still want it?”

After a few moment’s hesitation, she tucked it into her subspace. A free datapad was a free datapad.  
“Why the fuck not. Thanks.”

“Of course! Have a good day, now!”

 

\----------

 

Flux came home exhausted and hungry. She was a military cargo plane, and while it afforded her a nice cushy seat in middle class, the work was still hard and long.

Her roommate was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through patient files.

“Hey, Aberhalde.”

“Hey, Flux. How was work?”

“Ugh. You?”

“Had another addict come in today, poor thing.”  
Aberhalde tsked, shaking their head. The rotor blades on their back spun idly until one clunked to a stop against the chair, and then they went the other way before meeting the same fate. Fading light came in through the window, with a view of the city, and Flux vented.

“Oh, that’s sad…”

“Well, at least they came. I gave them my commlink if they ever need anything.”

“You're like a carrier,” Flux teased, grabbing a cube and sitting at the table, momentary pity forgotten. Her chair was much, much larger than Aberhalde’s, due to her massive build. Twin turbines made her shoulders, and both of her wings had another turbine mounted on them. The light shone dully off of her slate plating, but on the three cockpit windows near her clavicular area, at the top of her chest, light glinted. The front part of her torso was a set of vents, while her back had landing wheel gear going in a stripe up her spinal strut. Her hips widened past her waist, and her thick thighs let to massive pedes that shook delicate objects in any room she stepped pede in. In short, nothing about Flux could really be considered small.

Aberhalde rolled their eyes at Flux’s teasing.  
“It helps!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Pick up another datapad today?”

Flux opened her mouth, and paused. If the material was really politically inflammatory, she didn't want to involve her roommate.  
“Mm. No. None caught my optic. But I did say hi to Finagle.”

“Aw, I'm sure that old bot was happy to see you.”

“Shut up, will you? You're awful.”  
The plane rolled her optics, and Aberhalde cackled, slapping the table with a servo.

“Awful. Just awful.”  
Flux sighed, slouching back in her chair, and grabbed the remote off the table to turn the kitchen holovid screen on. Some report about some new biomech breakthrough that was mildly impressive and would just be overshadowed by another mildly impressive breakthrough next year. Flux had no patience for the pretentious.

Aberhalde was suddenly more solemn as they continued sorting through files.  
“Hear from Capacitor lately?”

Flux nearly groaned at the thought of her twin. To say Capacitor was the more Machiavellian of the two was putting it _lightly_.  
“Abbey, you know we haven't spoken in years. Not since she bonded up.”

“Well, yeah, I just thought-”

“It’s fine. No, I haven't heard from her. She and that snotty photon microscope conjunx of hers can do whatever they like, for all I care. They're just _perfect_ for each other.”

Flux snorted, and then huffed out a vent, wings drooping wearily.  
“Yeesh. I'm tired. I think I'll hit the slab.”

“Mhm. I'll be up a little longer. Night, Fluxie. Recharge well.”

“Night, Abbey.”

Flux retired, pulling out the datapad once she was settled under the blankets.

She began to read. And she was instantly sucked in, starting from the title, as her world drained away. Reading always did that for her, but this...

“ _Towards Peace_ , huh? Hmm…”

 


	2. Thick As Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy Oh Boy Is That Some Sweet Ass Treason :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll be updating every Monday and Thursday for now, but I've been in a slump and unable to finish chapter 6. If I run out of material I'll cut it down to posting either every Thursday or every Monday. Thanks guys! 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Gadget hadn't so much as _touched_ her computer in the last few days. One day, after work, she hesitantly sat down, wondering if they really had subjected her to shadowplay to make her this reluctant to use her computer.

She tapped the screen to boot it up. While the Senate had seized her computer, they'd sterilized the thing and given it back, newer and shinier than before.

Nothing. She tapped it again. Then she pecked at a key to try something else. It clacked soothingly.

A message popped up on screen.  
“Hello, Gadget! Please tap the screen to start.”

Static buzzed in her audials, a high ringing shrieking behind it. For a second, she was afraid her processor had glitched, and she reset her optic feedback. Still the same message.

The air felt hot and tight, and Gadget couldn't seem to vent well enough to fix that. She tapped the screen, again, a little desperately. Nothing.

She tried again. Nothing.

She tried again, frantically, and a tiny crack sprouted, a few pixels around it going dead.

Still nothing, and the screen faded from lack of perceived input.

Her computer was useless to her.

\----------

Gadget still went to Slickers with her group. But...now that she was an empurata, none of her friends seemed too inclined to talk to her very much. Well, except Dropthing. But Dropthing was as loyal as they came, in a weird sort of way. And it was definitely weird.

It was funny to say that about the bot that had sold her out, but Gadget found she couldn't fault him for that. It wasn't his fault that the Senate was fucked, after all.

Well. Maybe it was his fault that Gadget couldn't _fucking use her own computer._

“Yeah, did you hear about that new group that’s up and coming?”

“Oh, which one?”

“Call themselves the Decepticons, or something. Megatronus is at the head, calls himself Megatron now. Wrote something called ‘ _Towards Peace_ ’, I think. Gadget, you heard of it?”

Gadget fought irritation. She didn't know _everything_ treasonous. It wasn't a hobby. But now that she was an empurata, it seemed like violence and treason was all that was expected of her.  
“NO. I HAVE NOT.”

“Aw,” another friend laughed, a dump truck.  
“Ain't that a surprise!”

Gadget made a rude gesture (as well as she could).

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Anyways,” the previous friend cut in, “they say they're going to make things better for the lower class. Give those folks up in the Senate what for.”

Gadget glanced out of the corner of her optic, just barely tilting her helm, at Dropthing. The poor mech seemed like his circuits might melt. She ought to report the whole group here just for this. _Sure_ , sedition and treason were in fashion now, but make a few viruses and have a optic for a face and suddenly nobody wanted to talk to you. And besides, Dropthing was clearly stressed with this kind of talk.

“MAYBE WE SHOULD TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE,” Gadget suggested to the group, patting a claw against Dropthing’s arm.

“C’mon, you of all bots can't say shit.”

Gadget just clinked her pincers together, tilting her not-helm.

“Point taken,” the mech grumbled.

  
\----------

  
It was when Dropthing and Gadget got back to their complex and transformed when Dropthing burst out, “I promise I won't report anybody else!”

At the same time. Gadget said in her droning monotone, “I CAN REPORT THEM FOR YOU, IF YOU LIKE.”

Dropthing froze.  
“Gadget, you okay? You -- are you sure they didn't do -- something?”

Her tanks clenched in fear. No, she wasn't, and she hated it. It kept her from recharging properly, most nights.

“THEY DID NOT. BUT I KNOW YOU DO NOT LIKE THAT KIND OF TALK, AND OUR FRIENDS CLEARLY DON’T CARE. NOT TO MENTION YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO DOES NOT MIND THAT I AM AN EMPURATA.”

“Aw, Gadge, c’mon, that's not true…”

Gadget just inclined her not-helm. Dropthing always had been naive.

“Okay, maybe. But I think you're -- amazing, in spite of it. Because of it. I…”

Dropthing hugged himself, looking at his pedes.  
“I don't know why I reported you. I just got scared.”

Gadget patted his arm, pincer clanking against the metal. She _was_ angry at Dropthing. He could've kept his big fat intake shut and nobody up in the Senate would have ever been the wiser.  
“I FORGIVE YOU. YOU DID WHAT YOU THOUGHT WAS RIGHT. RECHARGE WELL, DROPTHING.”

She started to ascend the stairs, and Dropthing cried out.  
“Wait!”

She paused, turning around with question obvious in her optic. The pinpoint of light was wide and curious.

“I think...I think your voice sounds nice like this. I know you don't like it, but…”

Dropthing wrung his servos, vents hugging as his cooling fans clicked on.  
“Ithinkit’sreallyniceandIthinkyou'reagreatbotgoodnight!”

Gadget felt her own cooling fans click on at the confession and flattery, but Dropthing wasn't her type. Besides. He was the reason her voice was the most monotone of sounds. Complimenting her on it made her plating crawl a little.

“THANKS, DROP. I APPRECIATE IT. GOODNIGHT.”

And she went up the stairs.

  
\----------

  
Flux called in unwell to work the next day and took a trip down to Kaon.

It was awful. Smog choked the air, dirt and filth crawling in the streets.

She hugged her copy of _Towards Peace_ close, though she dwarfed most mecha around her. Most really only came up to her shoulders. The way they eyed her suspiciously made her uneasy.

Rally. Rally. She was here for a rally.

She sped up, gently brushing by mecha as she searched for the meeting place. Her wings cleared bots like sweepers.

She arrived ten minutes early, the makeshift stage in the warehouse empty.

She clutched the datapad to her chest as she settled into her spot in the crowd, near the back. Heavy pedes thunked up the steps to the stage, and the bot attached was huge, gunmetal gray, and marked with battle scars. The crowd whispered furiously, and Flux felt her own optics widen in excitement as her spark beat faster. Was this Megatronus?

The mech came to a stop center stage, and lifted a fist into the air.

“ _You are being deceived!_ ” He roared, and Flux was hopelessly hooked right then and there.

  
\--------

  
When she heard there was a group to meet Megatronus -- well, Megatron as he was now calling himself, she jumped in immediately.

Megatron was shorter than Flux was, though that didn't surprise her. Most were. But his charisma more than made up for it.

“And you are?”

“F-flux. I've never -- been to one of these before.”

“I hope you found it moving?”  
His optics were deep red, and hypnotizing.

Flux nodded emphatically, still holding the datapad of _Towards Peace_ dear. It caught Megatron's eye, and the bot extended a servo.  
“May I?”

“Of course!”  
She handed it over, and Megatron started to sign it.

“I’m --”  
She hesitated.  
“I'm Military class, so I know the system doesn't really affect me as much as other classes, but…”

Megatron shook his helm as he handed back the datapad.  
“You don't need to be under the pede to see that it’s crushing other mecha. Good luck to you, Flux. I hope to see you again.”

“Thank you!”  
And she scurried away, out of the warehouse and out of Kaon, giddy.

She finally got to her apartment and snuggled into berth, reverently running her blunt digits over the signature over and over again. It felt like she was in a daze.

She went to every rally that she could after that, datapad in servo.

  
\---------

  
It was at Slickers a couple of weeks later that Gadget got an update on the Decepticon situation. Dropthing had left early.

“Yeah, them Decepticons are really getting bold,” the dump truck announced.  
“Heard last week that they had a rally outside of Kaon.”

“Seriously?”  
The ringleader of their little group, a mixer truck, gaped. Gadget idly clicked her pincers and thought it made him look stupid. She had to suppress a chuckle.

“Yeah, it was nearby. That Megatron guy is getting really daring. He’s talking about approaching the Senate, you know.”

“That’s wild. Gadget, you know about this?”

Gadget strongly resisted the urge to groan out loud.  
“NO.”

“What happened to you, eh?”

Crossly, Gadget clicked her pincers irritatedly. An awkward silence fell over the table and the ringleader coughed to clear it.  
“Yeah, well.”

Gadget found the date and location of the next rally. It was just down the street from Slickers.

She hung around outside, listening as her pincers clicked. The words were alluring, sure. Intense, poetic, irresistible, even.

She looked down at her not-hands and touched her not-face.

It wasn't as if people hadn't spoken out before. And look what had happened to them.

She silently wished all inside the rally good luck and crept back home.

  
\-----------

  
Flux had been showing up to public rallies, with undying devotion. Hanging on every word, wide and starry eyed.

Then came the day where she was leaving a rally, and the mech tending the door reached out and grabbed her arm with a pincer. His single optic burned into her. Empurata victim, then.

“Megatron is holding a private get-together,” he said, lowly.  
“He expressed the wish that you might show up.”

Flux blinked, feeling her spark skip a beat.  
“M-me?”

“Yes. He admires your dedication. Will you come?”

“Yes, of course, if I can!”

The mech gave her the place and time, and let her go.

  
\--------

  
Flux showed up five minutes early to the meeting, the same mech that had told her about it letting her into the building and guiding her through the halls. It was beneath the gladiatorial arena in Kaon, in the gladiators’ quarters.

Megatron’s quarters were notably spartan -- a recharge slab and a table. The table had been dragged to the middle of the room and Megatron stood leaned over it, pointing to a large, cheap datapad. Another mech stood next to him, bright blue with a gray panel on his chest and a blaster mounted on his shoulder.

Flux timidly knocked on the door as it opened, nervousness flaring.

Megatron paused mid-word, and broke into an easy smile.  
“Ah, Flux. Welcome. Meet Soundwave.”

“Hi, Soundwave,” Flux greeted, timidly.

“Flux has been a devoted attendant at many of the rallies,” Megatron explained to Soundwave, who considered Flux silently for a moment.

Then, he nodded.  
“Welcome.”

His voice was mechanical and grating, but Flux just smiled.  
“Happy I could make it!”

“Please, come over. I apologize, my furnishings are a bit...sparse.”  
Megatron dipped his helm to her.

“That’s okay,” Flux said, lumbering over and looking at the large datapad.  
“What’s that?”

“Oh, this…”  
Megatron straightened.  
“I must confess, this meeting isn't entirely social. Soundwave and I are...in the midst of planning something. Nothing serious, just...something to make the Senate take us seriously.”

“Did you approach the Senate like you talked about?”

Megatron gritted his dentals, and Flux opened her mouth to apologize.

He sighed, holding up a hand.  
“It’s alright. My visit to the Senate proved...a waste of time.”

“Oh…”  
Flux drooped, wingtips brushing the ground.

“Well, no matter. More people are joining every day, but I fear violence may be our only course of action.”

Flux found the concept didn't make her quail. If they'd already exhausted other avenues, what other road was there to take?  
“What’s the plan?”

Megatron glanced at her, optics guarded.  
“Your altmode is a cargo plane, correct?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How might you feel about grand larceny?”

  
\----------

  
Gadget walked into Slickers a week later to see her buddies ablaze with chatter.

“Gadge!”  
Dropthing waved her over.

Gadget sat next to him.

“Gadge, you'll never guess what happened.”

The ringleader spoke up.  
“Yeah, did you hear? Those Cons did a smash and grab on a pharmaceutical place. Made off with all kinds of drugs. News says they're just gonna sell ‘em, but I've got a buddy in Kaon that says they're distributing them to people that need them for nothing through clinics.”

Dropthing, for once, didn't look scared out of his processor at political talk.  
“Isn't that -- wow, Gadget.”

Gadget’s spark pounded. She would love to march on down to the nearest Decepticon signup station and put her name down. But she was on thin ice. If she hadn't already undergone shadowplay, she had no intention of starting today.  
“YEAH. WHAT HAPPENED?”

Slabdry, the mixer truck, shrugged.  
“Oh, fuck if I know. You know the news never wants to give you the whole story. They say a group raided the place and then made a getaway in a cargo plane.”

  
\--------

  
Gadget stayed behind, watching the news on the bar holoscreen. She didn't have one at her apartment, couldn't afford it, and she couldn't access her computer.

“...we’re still working on these developments, but authorities think that the Decepticons involved were as follows...Soundwave, Megatron, Barricade, Brawl, and Flux.”

Pictures showed up, some blurry and grainy. Flux’s was by far the best -- a quality picture, from some sort of work ID. Strange.

Gadget shook her not-helm and left, driving home.

  
\--------

  
Flux was in the clinics of Kaon helping pass out that medicine right alongside the rest of her new family, and she knew in her spark that she couldn't go back to her apartment, or probably even comm Aberhalde.

She had a momentary pang of loss thinking about all of the datapads she was giving up, but that became the least of her worries as she had to find a place to stay and fuel to intake. She still had _Towards Peace_ ; that was what mattered, and she kept it secure in her subspace, a cherished gem. On sleepless nights she would read it and softly mouth lines that stood out to her as her optics scanned them.

After her help on the raid, however, she and Megatron had only become closer. When she couldn't find a place to rest her helm for the night, she quickly discovered his door was always open, and they often stayed up late into the night, casually drinking and laughing.

Flux liked Megatron, and not just because his deeds matched his words. He was honestly a good mech, a good _friend_ , a good partner in crime.

Flux swirled her cheap energon, grinning a slag-eating grin.  
“Remember when you almost fell through the ceiling of that pharmaceutical place?”

“Don't remind me, lunkhead,” Megatron growled, but it was fond.

“Hey, I said _almost_. Though, the sight of one leg swinging around in surprise was-”  
She cut herself off to quietly gigglesnort -- “-amusing.”

“You can say hilarious, I know you want to. You turborat _bastard_.”

Flux laughed outright, throwing her helm back and spilling some of the Energon on her servo.  
“You're damn right I do! Oh, _Primus_ that was good! I hear a _crack_ and down comes a chunk of the ceiling, and what do I see? I see a leg and a pede hanging there swinging away like there’s no tomorrow, and I can hear you swearing like only a poet can up there! I had no idea curses could be strung together like that, truly I didn't.”

“Alright, alright, pipe down.”  
Megatron leaned back, grinning.

Then, something seemed to dawn on him.  
“You have a way with words too, don't you?”

“Hm? I suppose. I do love them.”  
Flux laughed, finishing off her Energon.

“Mhm.”  
Megatron considered her, calculating.  
“How would you like to take a more active role in the movement?”

“Of course! Anything you ask.”  
Flux’s optics were wide and honest.

“The rallies are getting popular. I think it would help to have a second voice to the movement, but Soundwave doesn't want to, and I agree with his decision. You are passionate about the cause, and you are eloquent enough -- what do you say?”

Flux froze. She blinked, once, twice, and;

“What?”

Megatron reiterated, “Would you speak at rallies to drum up support?”

Flux was currently in shock, optics blinking every once in a while as they stared blankly at Megatron's faceplate.  
"You want -- me? To speak at rallies of my own?"

  
"You have all the right qualities."  
Megatron inclined his helm.  
"I appreciate that."

"Me? At rallies? Like you?"

"Well, on second thought, I might have to rescind the offer."  
Megatron chuckled mirthfully at his own little joke.

"No, please!"  
Flux put a servo on her thigh to balance herself.  
"I would be _honored_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are starting to come together! What's going to happen? 
> 
> We'll have to see...
> 
> (And Flux isn't exaggerating about the ceiling [in the confines of this story, at least]. Megatron really did fall right through.)


	3. Radio Ga Ga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allll We Hear Is, Radio Ga Ga!
> 
> (ok, kidding. but it is a great song. super catchy.)
> 
> The Senate Doesn't Like Ted Talks :(

Flux eagerly snatched up the opportunity Megatron gave her. She’d never been camera shy or frightened of the stage, really. At the same time, she didn't crave the spotlight. She preferred to work quietly just off the radar, but...if Megatron felt that she would do well at rallies, then he must have known something Flux didn't.

That was how Flux ended up speaking at a rally in Kaon. It was in an old warehouse, with crates stacked around for impromptu seating. A stage had been constructed out of something that looked suspiciously like scaffolding, and through the pockmarked roof, light strung through in cheerful streamers. As Flux ascended the stage and looked out at the crowd of bots, she thought of herself for a moment. Right in the back, datapad clutched to her chest. The awe, the wonder. A few mecha near the back mirrored her suspense and anticipation, and her processor flickered to Megatron briefly.

She wasn't Megatron; she couldn't pull off warrior-poet. Nor did she want to. She wasn't here to speak as Megatron, she was here to speak _for_ him. Flux let the atmosphere hang as she took a final step and settled herself on her pedes. The crowd chattered, and she called for quiet.

None was given. Flux frowned.  
" _Quiet, please!_ "

The crowd quieted down. The air buzzed with energy, and Flux took a deep, measured vent. Her spark was fluttering, _just spit it out_ \--

"We are _all_ equal," she began thunderously, sweeping a servo out and slightly behind to demonstrate her point, "and it's high time that be known!"

The crowd blazed with excited chatter, optics glued to her, and Flux met optics with several to hold attention, beginning to pace around the stage. The fluttering in her spark began to disappear, pathos boiling in its wake. She _was_ angry about this. How could she not be? The injustice of it all burned her alive in her own plating.  
"The Senate says your alt mode defines you. How would you feel being tended to by a doctor with tank treads, they ask? How would you feel if your bartender was a memory stick? Or if you report to your boring office job with an mixer truck? Enough of this, I say! Who cares what someone turns into? Why should we? What’s it to us?”

Flux stomped a pede, heavily. It thundered in the room, a little dust falling from the rafters.  
"This is a _blatant_ attempt to erase our individuality -- our very _sparks!_ To dim our processors, to make us their pet turborats running through their little social maze!"

A few people whistled, cheering.

"I say _enough!_ I say enough of this! Mecha should not live in fear of their governments!"  
She stilled, a moment.

"I suppose I have had it easier than some."  
The room was deathly quiet, hanging on her every word.

"The Senate defines me as Military Class, and before I joined the Decepticons, I had a nice apartment. I know this is not a universal -- or even a common experience."

Her voice quieted further, but she projected such passion into it that it lowly projected all the way to the back of the room.  
"But then I met Megatron. I met Megatron and I gave it up, and I would give it all up a _thousand-fold_ for the cause! You do not have to be under the pede to see that it's crushing other mecha! That much is plain to see!"

More cheering. Flux continued, thundering voice carrying perfectly through the makeshift auditorium. She wound the crowd up as her speech went on, wound them up with fervor. The air hummed with energy. A few motes of dust hung in shafts of light that beamed down, and they were frozen in the air, listening with rapt attention at the arpeggios of revolution spilling themselves from Flux’s lips.

"You should not just listen to me," she demanded, pointing subtly as she paced some more. All optics were locked on her, as not a vent was heard in the room.

"Attend Megatron's rallies. Hear us in the streets! Every time you see somebody with a sign being arrested, ask yourself, ' _is it worth it? Is my silence and peace worth the subjugation of so many?_ ' The Senate arrests us on the streets because they are _scared!_ They _know_ their message is flimsy! They _know_ their propaganda is nonsense! They _know_ that the people could easily rise up and take matters into their own servos -- could easily make their own system! A system that does not rely on _punching down_ , but rather _building up!_ A system where you support your fellow mech, a system where you do not _ask_ why your doctor has tank treads because you know they are qualified no matter _what_ their alt mode is!" 

Flux stood still, and thrust a fist into the air.  
"Let it resonate down to your _sparkchamber!_ Form does not dictate function! It never has, and it _never fucking will!_ "

The crowd went ham, and Flux vented heavily, fist hanging in the air for a couple of moments before she let it drop, spark roaring in her audials and fuel rushing through her lines like fire.

Was this how Megatron felt?

 

\--------

 

Flux began speaking at rallies whenever she could, wherever she could, and she could feel the Senate working itself into a froth over it. She knew there were mecha planted in the audience, they weren't subtle. She also knew they were taking footage, probably to hack together for a fear-mongering news report. Somewhere in a very petty place in her spark, the cargo plane was a bit flattered that they considered her that much of a threat.

In the face of building tension, still she spoke, laying it on thick and letting her own righteous fury bleed forth from her lips. At times she worked herself to tears and a choked voice during her speeches. It was different from Megatron’s measured, but impassioned meter, and it quickly carved out her niche as the voice of the movement right alongside Megatron. His was still the most important; Flux never passed up an opportunity to remind mecha of this, and kept herself a metaphorical half-step behind her leader at all times.

The Senate, with mounting pressure building against them, did their best to rid themselves of the problem. Busting in on rallies, passing the Decepticon Registry Act. Arrests skyrocketed, and it was a miracle that neither Flux nor Megatron had been arrested yet. It made them bold. If that was all the Senate had, they were weaker than anticipated. Still, things heated further and further, and still lovely words poured like sweetened bloody barbs from Flux’s intake, laid like worship at Megatron’s pedes.

 

\--------------

 

Morning rose in Crestover Heights, and ReDouble stretched as he woke slowly, venting with a sleepy smile. The air was cool, but the blankets were toasty and snuggly. He didn’t want to wake up just yet. He had had such a _lovely_ dream...

His berth had required an upsizing thanks to his massive brute of a conjunx, but she was ever so warm and cozy to recharge against. And the berth _was_ nice, admittedly.

Capacitor shifted, yawning and sitting up, and ReDouble grumbled, resenting the fading heat source.

“I have the day off today,” the microscope heard Capacitor say.

“Okay,” ReDouble led, cracking an optic open. He almost said ‘ _what does that have to do with me?_ ’, but thought better of it. They’d started spending more time together, and while ReDouble found he wasn’t opposed, he _did_ have to wonder if Capacitor was coming down with something.

“So, pretty boy, don't you want to have the day off _with_ me?”  
Capacitor laid a servo over her chestplates and grinned, three cockpit panels over her clavicular area glinting with morning light. It was beautiful.

ReDouble paused. There was that _awfully_ boring project at the lab lately, and he hadn't taken a day off in quite a while...besides. It wasn't as if he didn't _like_ Capacitor, he just didn't… _love_ her.

But she was nice to be around. And a pretty face.

“I'll call in sick,” he mumbled, drawing the blankets tighter around himself and shutting his optics.

Capacitor’s field flared with smug affection and ReDouble’s spark did _not_ skip.

They ended up in the den with steaming mugs of sweetened Energon for brunch, watching the news as morning light filtered through the blinds. ReDouble tried not to fidget. He’d left his vape pen in the other room, and just the news really wasn’t doing it to keep his processor occupied.

Admittedly, ReDouble wasn't as interested in the news as Capacitor, but she always cared to stay more in touch than he did. He was a bit… _oblivious_ , not having the mental energy to focus on -- ugh, _everything_. More often than not he found himself dreaming off into space. He also regularly forgot he could get up and walk from his office chair rather than scoot around while reading results, but Capacitor didn’t have to know that.

He snapped back to reality when the cargo plane tensed, sitting up with her optics glued to the holovid screen. 

ReDouble glanced at the screen to see what had his conjunx so riled up, and blinked in shock. The report was about the Decepticon uprising, specifically about one of its ringleaders. A heavy-framed, slate gray mech stood on a makeshift stage, and though the footage was poor, ReDouble recognized the cockpit windows, the wings, the turbines, the audial receptors. They looked eerily similar to Capacitor’s, and, he did recall…

“Is that -- your _twin_ , sweetspark?”

“Of course it fucking is,” Capacitor muttered.  
“She never did know when to keep her damned intake shut. You know she lives with that quack, right? That medic downtown, _way_ downtown.”

“No, I didn't. Isn't that clinic a revolving door of druggies?”  
_We bumped into each other for the first time way downtown_ , ReDouble wanted to say. Again, he thought better of it. Capacitor often overcompensated to fit in with the upper class.

Said bot wrinkled her nose.  
“Yes.”

ReDouble sighed, extending a servo after a second’s thought to rub Capacitor’s arm.  
“Let it go. Can't choose your family.”

“I wish her spark had guttered out before it attached to her frame.”  
Capacitor rolled her eyes, and on screen, Flux thrust a fist into the air, optics alight with righteous fire.  
“ _Down with the fucking Functionists!_ ”

Ice-cold shock hit ReDouble, waking him up fully. It was a rude awakening. He nearly choked on the sip he had taken, and after recovering, he rasped throatily, “She’s got bearings, hasn't she?”

“She’s stupid. She’s always been the dumb one.”  
Capacitor turned the holovid screen off, and ReDouble sipped at his mug, servo idly stroking her arm. After a few minutes, she began to relax.

“I'm glad I bonded with you,” she said, and it surprised them both. ReDouble’s servo paused for a moment, before resuming its gentle sweeps.  
“I am as well, sweetspark. Anything in particular bring that up?”

“No,” Capacitor said, sounding just as surprised as ReDouble felt.  
“Just...had that thought.”

“Well, thank you.”  
ReDouble finished off his mug, setting it aside as he snuggled tighter into the blanket.  
“Put those warm fuzzies to work, why don't you? I'm cold.”

“You're always cold,” Capacitor retorted, but slid an arm around him regardless.

 

\-----------

 

“Flux, are you sure about this? Having a rally just outside of Iacon is downright _reckless._ ”  
Megatron’s red optics searched Flux’s own yellow ones, concerned.

Flux vented steadily, nodding.  
“If we can't reach mecha from all across Cybertron, what’s the point?”

Megatron opened his intake to reply, and Flux held up a digit, cutting him off.  
“I think the movement is ready. Consult Soundwave if you need a third opinion, but I think the Decepticons are ready. _I'm_ ready.”

“Flux, the Senate is _watching_ you,” her leader replied in frustration, voice pleading with her to see reason.

“They're watching everybody! If we can't take risks, what is this even for?”  
The cargo plane crossed her arms, stubbornly staring the warrior-poet down.

“Flux, the Senate _will not hesitate_ to crack open your processor like an egg and do whatever they want, and they're just waiting for the right chance,” Megatron cautioned, resting a servo on her shoulder turbine.  
“I'm afraid this might be giving it to them. You are a dear friend, and I don't want you to get hurt.”

Flux calmed at that, but still frowned.  
“Do you still know that clerk?”

“Yes, why?”

“Think she can whip up a few permits?”

“ _Flux_ ,” Megatron warned, and Flux rested a servo over the one on her shoulder.  
“They can't touch me without making a big stir if I have the right permits, and a big stir is _exactly_ what they don't need right now. Either way, they're hanging themselves.”

Megatron’s faceplate went from sternly cautionary, fading into conspiratorially grinning.  
“ _You_ are an undersold genius. I'll see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey by the way the next chapter includes Froid getting punched in the fucking face


	4. Punch Ya Lights Out, Hit The Pavement, Causin' Problems Makes Ya Famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll stop using song lyrics for titles soon, really I will.
> 
> Anyways! I just finished a final paper, I have three more to write in the coming two days, I'm about to die!!!
> 
> But Froid gets punched in the face, so really, it balances out. Let me know what you guys think so far! Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Flux, with permits in subspace, stepped up to the stage in a low-end auditorium on the outskirts of Iacon. It was the most extravagant venue she had spoken in, and the curtains were raggedy.

She swept a glance over the crowd, and was more than a little pleased to find a few higher-class mecha. Most of the crowd was middle or upper middle class, and a good portion was comprised of her devoted regulars. The air was musty, slow, soft. It felt like it was waiting to recieve her words, almost, hushed in anticipation.

“I'll try and save a little of the fire and brimstone,” Flux joked to start, reading the crowd and a quiet laugh rippled through those assembled. Her usual impassioned cries would only serve to drive those in upper class away, but if she was too lukewarm, her regular attendees would accuse her of pandering. There was a hairline golden zone, and she couldn't stray a breath. This was the biggest challenge yet.

Flux vented, and grew serious.  
“That said, there are things that need to be said, and I know you know that too. I know you're aware of that, because you're here. You know as well as I do that something is wrong, and even though some of you may not know quite what yet, I commend you for trying to find out. I'll tell you. This system is wrong because its classification is arbitrary.”

Flux let that hang in the air for a moment, using the dramatic pause to covertly survey the crowd. Too much? Not enough? Some mecha were looking away. Time to put some spitfire back into her words.

“Not just arbitrary -- _harmful!_ The classification is a deliberate grab for power by the Senate! They think that we can keep ourselves in check if all we can occupy our processors with is pointing digits at other mecha. _Aren't you sick of it?_ We have _all_ been deceived, for far too long, I say!”

That caught attention.

“We have all been deceived. I am not demanding that you sign up with the Decepticons, and pledge your allegiance to the cause. I implore you -- I _exhort you, please, certainly_ \-- but I do not demand. We are not the Senate! We don't _break_ you if you don't bend. All that we ask is that you step back from your mundane pedantries, the hustle and bustle of your every day, and ask yourself, _‘what can I do to make things better? Not just for myself, but for others?’_ That’s all we ask.”

Flux paused again, venting. She carried on, quietly so mecha had to lean in with anticipation for her words.  
“We’re not trying to burn down the world. But if something is built on rust…” she took a breath, and swept a servo out, “I say _tear it down!_ ”

She’s found her stride, it seemed, and she opened her intake to continue when the doors busted in and Senate Enforcers strode in.  
“Flux of Lower Crestover, you're under arrest for assembly without a permit and sedition!”

The crowd scattered like rats, gasping and chattering. A few Senate plants fell into rank and file with the Enforcers as they approached the stage.

Flux stood calmly on the platform, face neutral as she produced the permits.  
“Sorry, gentlemecha. All permits accounted for, and I think you missed the part where I said I'm not here to burn it all down.”

Two larger mecha ascended the side steps, and Flux was tense, watching them.

One snatched the permits, and read them, frowning. The air was tense, a tight coil of apprehension mirroring the one in Flux's tanks.  
“Damn.”

Flux had to let out a relieved smirk at that, but cried out when the one slightly behind her pushed her suddenly, and then staggered back herself, theatrically. The stage shook with Flux's stumbling steps as she regained her balance.

The one holding the papers dropped them and rushed to her side.  
“What’s the matter?”

“You just assaulted an enforcer,” the bot ‘blown on her ass’ snarled at Flux, and the rest of the enforcers swarmed up to clamp a protesting Flux’s servos behind her back, cuffing them and leading her out.

 

\-----------

 

Capacitor came into the kitchen from just getting home to see ReDouble paused mid-meal, glued to the small kitchen holovid screen with horrified fascination.

“I'm home,” Capacitor announced, and ReDouble started, optics never leaving the screen. He distractedly waved her over.  
“Dearspark, you're going to want to see this.”

Capacitor leaned over him and focused in on the screen. Another news report. Breaking news, it seemed. 

Capacitor’s optics widened.  
“Flux? _Arrested?_ In _Iacon?_ What was she doing _there?_ ”

“Giving a speech -- apparently she assaulted an enforcer when they tried to break the rally up.”  
ReDouble frowned, ever the scientist.  
“Though, from what you've told me, that doesn't seem to be her style.”

“Who cares?” Capacitor said, smugly, and rubbed at ReDouble’s shoulders as they both watched Flux get perp-walked to an enforcer vehicle.  
“Maybe this will teach her to keep her intake shut.”

“Are you going to go see her? In prison?”

“With the way she was talking? They're not putting her in prison! Besides, even if they did, let her rust.”

ReDouble frowned harder, but let it go, turning off the screen.  
“I had it on for background noise, but when that report came on, I just got sucked in. Assaulting an _enforcer?_ Do you think she would?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Capacitor replied, instantly.  
“That’s fake, for sure. But it got her to shut the fuck up, didn't it?”

ReDouble considered this, shrugged in acquiescence, and grudgingly went back to dinner, going to sit at the table. Capacitor’s was at another placemat, next to his.  
“I suppose it did.”

 

\------------

 

Flux struggled as the security guards hauled her into the clinic, one of them reaching up to grab her by the audial like a horn. She cried out, snarling as she attempted to free herself. It was no good, and they dragged her down stairs, through winding looping halls, and into a claustrophobic room, slamming her down onto a table and locking down her wrists and pedes as someone else injected her with a sedative.

The cargo plane thrashed, and as they were locking down the last wrist restraint, howling from another room called them to scurry out, muttering to themselves.

Flux was left to vent out aggravated chuffs of hot air, spark thundering as her vision fritzed in distress. Slowly, in the silence of the small room, Flux calmed, her visual feedback slurring as her processor spun with heavy swirls. Her tanks flipped with nausea.

She groaned, helm falling back to clunk against the table, and briefly thought to comm Megatron as her servo scrubbed her eyes.

She froze, sluggishly trying to think through the drugs. They hadn't quite finished the dose, the syringe lying on the table next to the medical berth. But they were still heavy drugs.

She pulled her servo away to stare at it, blinking once or twice. It was...unlocked? 

She groaned again, blinking away whatever was swimming in her eyes and letting her servo fall back to rest. Gently she eased it back into the restraint, a small part of her processor lucid enough to tell her that it wouldn't do to be caught unrestrained. She could still easily slip out.

Flux didn't know exactly how long she layed on that table, but as eternities passed, slowly the haze began to clear as the lights buzzed and flickered overhead. 

Then, the door opened, and Flux couldn't stop the jump that seized her struts and the viscerally terrifying mech that came in with a datapad.

“Aw, is that attached to you?” She slurred, about his ball-gag intake.  
“I'm so sorry, Primus. Is that a mod?”

Sure, she was hamming it up a bit, but it made the mech take one look at her at dismiss her with a snort. The chronometer ticked on the wall, slowly, and the imposing mech tapped a pede impatiently before shuffling around.

Flux fiddled with the latch, waiting for an opening. If he could just get close enough…

The mech glanced at the chronometer again and muttered.   
“Rung is late, might as well get started.”

Flux’s spark pounded as her cooling fans clicked on with anxiety. What the mech hadn't mentioned was that Rung was less than a minute late.

Down the hall, frantic pedesteps tapped, growing louder and faster just outside the door. The automatic door slid and an orange servo crammed itself into the crack, gripping and forcing the door open. A tiny orange mech with glasses vented harshly, faceplates arranged in a thunderous frown.   
“Froid! _We've talked about this!_ ”

“Froid” glanced up from arranging the needles.  
“You're late.”

“Hardly! You still need _my_ signature, and with this little stunt, I'm not feeling so inclined. I leave you alone for thirty seconds and already you've violated six different rules of ethics. I would be impressed, if I weren't so disgusted!”

“I see you found your reputation,” Froid responded icily. Rung just huffed and clutched his own datapad, and Froid pushed the syringe table over by the medical berth.

Rung’s vents went red-hot. Later on, he would process the sight of Flux’s servo coming out of its restraints, but for now, he was too pissed. He was tired, he was angry, and he’d just had the bolts tightened on his wheelpack for a “routine” checkup, and he would be hellbound before he let Froid push him around today.  
“By Primus, don’t you dare start without a second signature!”

Lightning-fast, Flux grabbed Froid’s arm, digits denting metal, and slung him over herself and into the wall, where he crumpled dazedly in a heap. Flux instantly set to work on snapping her other restraints, flexing her limbs and staggering to her pedes. After a moment of processor-swimming recovery, she rose to her full, imposing height, and Rung watched, frozen to the spot. Froid stumbled up like it was the first day in his frame, taking in a heavy vent to scream for security.

Flux slammed a servo over his face, the heel of her palm resting over Froid’s intake, and crushed him helm-first into the wall, holding him there in the new dent.

Then, she seemed to remember there was one other person in the room, and she slowly turned her helm to face Rung. 

The psychiatrist wasn't wholly sure what he expected to see on her faceplates. He’d read her report on the way over, sure, but it was frantic and hurried. What he _did_ see, however, was fear, more than a little sheepishness, adrenaline high, and a crazed, hunted gleam in her optics.

They both looked at Froid, and Rung heard a sharp half-cackle of surprise. It hung in the air for a couple of seconds before the psychiatrist realized that was him, and Flux instantly snapped her attention back to him, tensing. Her golden optics raked him up and down, analyzing the threat level. Rung subtly put his servos up. They hovered around his waist, palms down in a non-threatening gesture of openness. _It's alright,_ his field projected. _I won't hurt you_.

Flux’s optics flicked back to Froid, who had been knocked unconscious the instant his helm graced the wall. She dropped him, and he instantly slid down to the floor and didn't get back up.

When the cargo plane advanced, slowly, Rung took a couple of steps back. As hard as his processor was racing in fear, the more coherent part of it told him that Flux had only retaliated against Froid because he had been a direct threat. As long as Rung didn't spook her, his helm wouldn't be reshaping the walls. For all of her jitteriness, she didn't seem to startle very easily -- at least, not outwardly. The two mecha half-circled each other, optics never leaving the other as Rung attempted to ease himself away from the door. He had no doubt that if he didn't move, he would be moved, and if somebody in the hallway saw, she wouldn't be thinking about how hard she brushed the obstruction of her escape away.

Flux was light on her feet for a big mech, pedesteps soft against the floor. She drew close to the door; and a servo came to nudge Rung fully out of the way. It made him stumble a bit -- it wasn't gentle, but it also wasn't intentionally batting him across the room. He considered it a win.

“Sorry,” she apologized, lowly and sincerely, and Rung wasn't surprised at all.  
“I just gotta -- yeah-”

She bolted as soon as the path was clear, and Rung saw her put two digits to her audial on the way out.  
“Megs, I just fucked up a Senate _shrink!_ ”

Rung blinked, confused. He was fine. A bit shaken, for _sure_ , but fine-

Behind him, Froid groaned as he came back online, and Rung grimaced. As he heard thunking pedesteps retreat, a guard cried out in alarm. Several more shouted for Flux to halt, and the screech of sliding metal sounded, followed by pedes hauling ass the other way. Rung glanced out into the hall, saw it was clear, and, ignoring Froid’s rasp of “wait,” slipped away, in the opposite direction of the commotion.

 

\------------

 

Megatron was trying enjoy a quiet moment composing some poetry in his quarters. Flux's comm had been bothering him for ages. He'd seen her arrested (Soundwave had reported in), and he'd gotten that comm, and...radio silence. 

That was the moment Flux chose to come stumbling in, wheezing like she’d raced on foot with a Velocitronian in their alt-mode.

“If you say ‘I told you so’,” she began, panting, “I _will_ kill you.”


	5. And The "World's Okayest Boss Award" Goes To...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War breaks out! Mysteries spring up! What's going to happen next?

The news of the century reached Gadget when she was at home: in the form of Dropthing, actually, who knocked frantically on her apartment door.  
“Gadgey! Gadgey, open up! Gadgey you have to hear this!”

Gadget trudged grudgingly over to the door, having been trying to get a small nap in. She opened the door, pinprick of light in her optic widening.  
“WHAT IS IT?”

“Gadget, the Senate -- it’s -- oh, Primus, it’s terri-”  
Dropthing blasted out a vent and stared directly into her optic.  
“Gadget, the Senate is all _dead!_ ”

“THAT’S TOO BAD,” Gadget deadpanned. 

“Gadget! The government has just been _assassinated!_

“DROPTHING, IF YOU’RE EXPECTING A NEGATIVE REACTION, I’M NOT THE BOT YOU WANT TO BE TALKING TO.”

 

\-------------

 

When the war broke out, Gadget joined the Autobots in the feeble hope that she might get her hands back. She never did see her work buddies again, and though she did try to stay in touch with Dropthing, eventually she lost contact with him too. At first, the loneliness ate at her, and she was a bit shocked to realize how dependent she’d become on him. He still liked talking to her and hanging out, and out of all of her friends, was the least freaked out about her optic and claws. Now, she had nobody.

Her commander approached her one day in the mess hall as she was filing back to go sit in her room, as she usually did off-shift.  
“These reports show you were a mnemoterrorist? You created malware.”

“THAT IS TRUE, YES.”

“This is top secret, but…”  
The Commander steered her off to the side of the room.  
“We’d like you to start up again. Off the books, of course. We’d be using them against the ‘Cons.”

“I WOULD LIKE TO OVERSEE THEIR DEPLOYMENT, PLEASE.”

“Yeah, all the better. What type of viruses did you make?”

“MOSTLY PRANKS. BUT I CAN MAKE WHAT YOU NEED.”

“Excellent.”

Gadget’s spark soared with eager vigor, and she requested a datacable to replace one pincer to help her with the computers. It was granted, her right arm hollowed out to implant the cable. It ended, tucked against her wrist as the cable fit inside her arm, in three claws instead of two. 

Inspired by this, she requested the base’s medic, Aberhalde, redesign her frame as well. She was done with being manual-class. Done with the single-optic.

She became a three-wheeled speedster with an open top. Gone was her steady, sturdy altmode. Now she was all smooth lines and rounded edges and delicate tires that tore rubber down the hallways. It was fantastic! She requested having her helm replaced, but…

“Oh, sweetspark,” Aberhalde sighed. They tutted after a few moments, seemingly sparkbroken.  
“Sweetspark, I -- I _can't._ ”

Gadget’s optic spiraled bright with the force of a neutron star. The air clamped down around her, cooling fans coming on as time slowed to a gruesome crawl.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” they apologized, profusely, servo coming to rest on Gadget’s shoulder.  
“But -- I was never trained in helm redesign, Gadget, not to that extent. I...I wish I could help you, really I do.”

“PLEASE,” Gadget begged, static fuzzing in her monotone voice.  
“PLEASE, I JUST WANT MY FACE BACK. I’LL TAKE THE CLAWS FOR SERVOS, I JUST CAN’T TAKE THIS FUCKING OPTIC ANY MORE.”

Aberhalde’s lips pursed, their long, angular face straining against pity.  
“I might be able to do something. Would you mind having a visor, Gadget? It’s not a new face, but...like you said, sweetspark, anything’s better than that ugly old optic.”

“I WILL TAKE A VISOR.”

“Okay. It’s going to be alright, dearspark.”  
Aberhalde cradled Gadget’s two-pincer servo in their own, patting gently.  
“Let me show you what the visor looks like, and then I'll get started. I'll put you into stasis for this operation.”

 

\------------

 

Gadget woke slowly, her field of vision fading in from black. She had the oddest phantom urge to blink, but she found that she couldn't.  
Her field of vision was wide, like she was watching a holoscreen attached to her face. Aberhalde appeared over her, beaming, and helped her sit up.  
“You did _wonderfully_ , dear. Easy now, that’s it...here, I'll grab you something to see yourself with.”

Gadget took what Aberhalde handed her, and peered down with her strange new visual input. Her whole visor was an optic, blank and dark and featureless. It was softly rounded outwards, giving it a mild curve in profile view. The edges of the thing were a soft triangle, and the smallest point was where her chin would have been. A small fissure breathed across the bottom third, and the panel (and its still functional screen) slid away to reveal a proboscis and gripper setup. Even her intake was upgraded from what the Senate had given her.

Overcome with intense, indescribable emotion, Gadget nearly dropped the mirror as snow fuzzed across the screen for a moment. Over top, the glyph for “surprise” flashed, and Gadget snapped her helm up to meet Aberhalde’s face.  
“I -- I -- THANK YOU. THANK YOU SO MUCH.”

“Oh, look at the back,” Aberhalde said joyously, guiding the mirror up and to the side. Gadget peered into the reflective surface, analyzing the back of her helm. It looked like a nearly-normal helm, though the edges of the visor overshadowed it by...perhaps a digit’s distance, if it was to the first knuckle joint. Two small finials graced the top corners of her visor, like decorative spurs, and her audials were rounded like caps. Two antenna stuck out of the right one.

It was bittersweet. Not a face, but...Aberhalde had done their best. Gadget thanked them again, and rushed out to who knew where, giddiness hitting her all at once.

Aberhalde watched her go, face suddenly serious, and went to attend to other matters. Minutes later, Capacitor walked in.  
“Hey. What was up with the busybody that just ran into me? Their whole head was a visor. Haven't seen that before.”

“Empurata. Poor dear wanted her face back.”

“Doesn't look like too much of a face to _me._ ”

“That’s because it’s not,” Aberhalde said, examining their digit paint.  
“I told her I wasn't qualified for such operations and that the visor was the best I could do.”

“Er -- but Doc, ain't you the one that fixed up Socketchip’s helm after his empurata, a few years ago?”

“Yes,” Aberhalde said, “and quite well, too.”

 

\-----------

 

“We’re putting you to work in the biomechanics and bioweaponry division,” the Commander explained as he walked Gadget to the base’s lab.  
“You'll be working with a few other mecha, will that be a problem?”

“AS LONG AS I CAN HAVE A COMPUTER, I WILL BE FINE.”

“Excellent.”  
The Commander opened the doors and a short, slim mech in a sweeping lab coat glanced over his shoulder. His half-moon glasses glinted in the harsh overhead lighting, and his mint green and white plating shone a sickly bleached hue.  
He nodded respectfully. The tip of the Autobot badge glinted silver on his chestplates, right over his spark.  
“Commander. Was there something you needed?”

“Yes, actually. ReDouble, this is Gadget. She’ll be working in your division.”

ReDouble assessed Gadget with a quick flick of his optics, and Gadget found herself feeling weighed and inexplicably inadequate.  
“I see.”

“She’s got plenty of experience in coding malware. Show her the ropes of the lab, would you?”

He left them, and the doors shut as ReDouble turned to face Gadget completely, giving a quick bow.  
“Welcome to the lab. Come over, why don't you, and I'll catch you up to speed.”

“THANK YOU.”  
Gadget walked over, heels clicking, and didn't miss how ReDouble scooted his lab notes away from her just ever so slightly...the way he was looking around, as if he had lost something, Gadget doubted he realized he did it.  
“Now, where did I put that laser pointer…”

A glint caught Gadget’s visual feedback, and she caught a glimpse of silver under a shamble of datapads.

Delicately, she pinched it, and wiggled the laser pointer out, holding it out to ReDouble.  
“THIS ONE?”

“Aha! Wily thing. Yes, that one. I'd lose my helm if it weren't attached to my neck, that’s for certain.”

There was an awkward pause as he glanced at Gadget for a half a second, as if he’d misspoken, and it only served to remind Gadget of her not-face and not-hands.  
“UNDERSTANDABLE.”

ReDouble took the pointer and forgot to thank Gadget, clicking the button a few times before slipping it into his coat pocket.  
“Now. This way, if you please…”

The tour ended with Gadget’s computer station, and she clicked her pincers excitedly, static fuzzing across her screen. ReDouble hesitated just slightly mid-word, but continued.  
“And this is where you'll be working. If you have any questions, I am this lab’s head scientist. Don't hesitate to ask.”

And he left, light glaring off of the magnifying lens just below his spark. It parodized an open-face sparkchamber.

 

\--------------

 

Gadget first really met ReDouble’s conjunx on a shift in the lab, one day, as she was handing off a drive of her latest code to ReDouble. He was going to convert it into biomechanical CNA strands. It was harder to cure than simple code in a mech’s processor.

Gadget handed off the drive, and ReDouble possibly thanked her. The words came out of his intake, and his digits fumbled around the drive until they found purchase, but he was so absorbed in whatever results he was recording from whatever was in the desk microscope on the counter that Gadget wasn't entirely sure he realized she was there.

Gadget let go of the drive as soon as she was sure he had it, and started to walk away. The lab doors opened, and a bulky mech a little shorter than Gadget opened the door. At the very top of her chest plating was a single curved cockpit window, and below that was a broad, rounded piece of plating. An Autobot badge was stamped on in gaudy yellow. It stood out against the rest of her grayish-brown plating. Her shoulders were propeller turbines, which also had a ring of yellow around the end. Her waist vents led into hips rivaling her shoulder span. That, in turn, led to thick thighs and wide pedes. She looked like a force to be reckoned with, and made ReDouble look like a doll, or a toy.  
“Hey, Doctor Airhelm!”

ReDouble nearly jumped out of his chair. He relaxed immediately, optics sliding shut as a servo came to rest over his spark. He huffed out a great heave of a vent.  
“Capacitor, I'm _working!_ ”

“Yeah, well, I'm not,” ‘Capacitor’ said, smugly, and sauntered up behind ReDouble.  
“You've been working like a fucking _drone_ lately, take a break!”

“Can't, too focused, if I lose it I'll never get it back,” ReDouble bemoaned, relaxing into the arm Capacitor snaked around his chest.

Gadget started to retreat back to her computer station, and ReDouble blinked, finally noticing her, and the drive in his servo.  
“Oh. _Oh!_ Thank you, is this done?”

“YES, IT IS,” Gadget responded, and as Gadget opened the door to go back to her computer station, she heard Capacitor nudge ReDouble.  
“Who’s that?”

“Just Gadget,” ReDouble dismissed, and while Gadget was grateful that he didn't bring up her infamous reputation as a terrorist (and didn't seem to care, regardless), her spark burned a little at being “ _just Gadget_ ”.

If it wasn't discomfort, it was indifference.

ReDouble wasn't a bad boss, per se. All things accounted for, he was actually very pleasant to work with. Polite, quiet, professional. A bit of a mess (Gadget had never actually seen the surface of his desk under all those datapads and research results), but organized enough to be functional. He didn't treat specific bots under his chain of command with favoritism, well...at least not outright. He had the grace to be discreet about it. His sense of professionalism would never allow him to be transparent about his favorites. He did have a bad habit of talking down, but the way he did it, Gadget was almost positive he had no idea the words fell out of his intake like that. In short, Gadget could tolerate him, and even kind of liked him sometimes, when he was being particularly foggy and distracted. 

 

\-----------

 

Gadget had a project to work on, in tandem with ReDouble, and spent the day tinkering in the main lab on the virus she’d coded the day previously. ReDouble was coaching her in how to convert it from computer code to CNA.

“So, how've you been spending your off days?” ReDouble asked, distractedly as he worked. That was another thing Gadget appreciated; he did make attempts at polite chat, so the silence wouldn't be deafening.

“I READ, IF I CAN CONCENTRATE ON IT.”

“Ugh, I know that feeling,” the photon microscope agreed, and tweaked the desk spotlight further down onto the blank CNA strand. It was in a Petri dish filled with solution. ReDouble’s lab coat was buttoned, as white as his plating.  
“What do you read? I prefer mystery.”

“FANTASY WORKS. I DID READ AN ARTICLE THE OTHER DAY, ABOUT WEALTHY MECHA AND FEELINGS OF ENTITLEMENT.”

“Mhm,” ReDouble agreed, hearing, but not quite processing. It seemed to sink in a couple of seconds later.  
“Sounds interesting, how long was it?”

“I CAN SEND IT TO YOU, IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.”

“I'd love to. Can you just tell me what it said?”

Gadget didn't reply, and when ReDouble registered that, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her in confusion. She tilted her helm, just a little, visor blank.

His brows furrowed, confused for another moment, before it hit him. Understanding dawned, and then abashedness.

He laughed, quietly and sheepishly, optics shutting as a servo came up to rest at the nape of his neck.  
“Ah, apologies! Of course, send it to me and I'll read it.”

Gadget flashed a smiley face and let the moment drop, turning back to the project with ReDouble.

 

\---------------

 

Flux had fared very well, all things considered. She was Major General of three transportation units and their vanguards, and remained a close personal advisor to Megatron alongside Soundwave. She also handled transportation of sensitive materials herself, things Megatron didn't trust the rank and file with. She even had a minor seat on the Conclave. 

It was one such mission where Flux’s day really took a nosedive worthy of a Prime. 

She’d been cruising at mid-altitude, tail fin stirring air behind her, as her turbines roared. She was an hour out, cargo tucked safely in her storage. 

Her sensors reported an Autobot life signal, approaching fast, and a harsh buzzing sound pierced her audials, like propellers growling.

Blaster fire peppered Flux’s airspace, and she jerked to dodge, as well as she could. Whoever was behind her was _fast_. Which was odd, because judging by the whine of propellers, they weren't a jet.

A shot hit home in an upper turbine, and Flux felt something blow. She cried out as a flash of pain hit her, thick smoke starting to trail. 

She began to tilt, and started immediately trying to keep control as she went for a controlled crash. Still blaster fire rained down on her, and she did her best to avoid the hail. 

Her landing was hard, metal grating against ground as she skidded. Flux transformed halfway through, sliding to a stop as she groaned. Black smoke poured out of one of her shoulder turbines. Her arm was dead, no feeling. No response.

For a few seconds, all she could do was lay there. Everything hurt, her HUD screamed warnings, and she thanked Primus she’d had the foresight to subspace that cargo.

Groaning, she rose, disabled arm hanging limply by her side as the smaller plane landed and transformed. Her propellers lay flush to the outside of her shoulders where her arm connected, and the brownish gray was simultaneously an ugly color and very complimentary to the yellow. It was also a very familiar shade...Flux couldn't put a digit on it.

Flux squinted, powering up the blaster in her good arm, and the mech spread their arms.  
“What, no warm welcome? It’s been a while!”

“I don't know you!”

“Fluxie, Fluxie, Fluxie,” she tutted, and Flux’s optics widened.

“ _Capacitor?_ ”

“Now you're getting there.”  
Capacitor sneered, and powered on her own blasters.  
“Now, _‘Con_ , I'm giving you one chance to surrender-”

Flux shot at her.

 

\-----------------

 

The slate gray cargo plane hauled herself into the Decepticon medbay boiling with rage. One arm hung uselessly by her side, the other servo clutching at her ruined shoulder. Smoke still puffed out every once in a while.

Their medic, Havoc, was in the medbay, and Flux vented, glowering.  
“My arm is-”

“Sit down,” Havoc interrupted, without looking at Flux. The digit marks gouged into Havoc’s chest along with the last fading scraps of an Autobot badge graced the medic’s chest. Her black and gold color scheme didn't match the medical chevron welded to her forehelm, but then again, Havoc hadn't been Forged as a medic. It probably hadn't been intended to be hers in the first place. 

The gouges were somewhat recent, judging by the look of them, and Havoc hadn't taken the Decepticon badge.

Flux trudged in and sat heavily on the berth, venting again. Havoc turned to face her, faceplate set in its constant dour half-frown as she began to take a look at the damage.  
“Somebody fucked you up _good._ ”

“I know,” Flux growled, glaring at the wall ahead of her. The black-and-gold medic started to work, repairing the busted turbine slowly but steadily. At one point, feeling tingled in her arm again, and she started to flex it. Havoc held the arm down immediately.  
“Stop moving.”

Flux stopped. Havoc wasn't a good person to actively piss off. You might leave the medbay with less than you started with. That said, prickly as she was, she and Flux did have a mutual respect for each other. Maybe something approaching friendship, possibly, if Havoc was having an excellent day.

Slowly, the damage was repaired, and in the quiet room, Flux’s question was deafening.  
“Can you give me a fusion cannon? I want to pay the bitch that did this to me back.”

“Sure,” Havoc said, before pausing and blinking. Her optics snapped up to look at Flux, who was frowning thunderously.  
“You don't usually talk like that. What happened?”

“My spark-twin joined the Autobots, and apparently got a frame redesign to one-up me and be faster. So I thought, what’s the use being fast when I can take you down with one shot?”

Havoc shrugged.  
“Hm. Sure. Do you mind me picking parts from mecha who aren't online anymore?”

“As long as they didn't request to keep all of them,” Flux said, betraying her usual moral hangups in a moment of sheepishness.

“Got it. I can have it to you in three days.”  
Havoc paused, eyeing Flux suspiciously.  
“The same model as-?”

“What? Oh. _Oh!_ Primus, _no_. No, I don't care, I'm just in it to kick the shit out of Capacitor. Fuck, put it on the other arm for all I care. Actually, I’d prefer that. It’s my dominant servo.”

“Done. Come back in three days.”  
Havoc leaned back, heavily patting the repaired shoulder turbine.  
“You're done. Get the fuck out of my medbay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, can anybody hazard a guess at Aberhalde's reason for lying to Gadget?
> 
> ((Havoc belongs to Starscrearn, who writes lovely Megatron/Rung fic and has an amazing TFP KO/SS fic called "This Too Shall Change". I love it and you all should Definitely check it out. ))


	6. I Hope You Die In a Fucking Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an entire chapter dedicated to assholes taking it out on each other, basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I did take a note from Megatron's book for the start of this chapter, but...I'm pretty sure that was in another continuity, so shhhhh
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Flux broke in her new fusion cannon, mounted on her left forearm, by finding Capacitor... and shooting her.

Capacitor had been stationed to monitor communications between her units, at a small field outpost. Flux practically kicked the door in, powering up the fusion cannon and relishing in its eager hum. The bigger cargo plane blasted Capacitor as soon as she started to turn to face the sudden intruder, and the shot glanced off of her chest plating, eating through it like a warm knife through butter. It flew home into the communications systems, knocking a dazed Capacitor on her back from the small explosion. Through the gaping, smoking, partially melting, gouging wound in her plating, softly glowing streaks of blue showed. They flickered frenetically.

Flux laughed, turned around to take a picture with Capacitor lying in the background, and left as quickly as she’d come. This had been a mere pit stop on her mission.

 

\---------

 

Gadget walked into the lab to see ReDouble with what looked like a vape pen to his intake as he swung back and forth in his swivel chair, optics far away. He was taking a break from his latest project, and by “taking a break,” Gadget meant he probably couldn't focus to save his life.

ReDouble took the pen-shaped object away, and leaned back further in his chair, huffing out opaque white vapor through his small lower chest vents.

Gadget tilted her helm. So this was why the scent of something abhorrently sweet always clung to his lab coat.  
“GOOD MORNING, REDOUBLE.”

ReDouble shrieked so loudly and so abruptly, Gadget jumped with him as he fumbled the pen and nearly threw it into the air. Thankfully, he was done exventing vapor, but he did still fall into a coughing fit.

Gadget’s screen fuzzed apologetic snow.  
“SORRY. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

ReDouble nodded as he recovered, sheepishly setting the pen aside.

“It’s not addictive,” he said immediately, almost like a disclaimer.  
“It’s just vapor and flavoring. Don't -- don't tell anybody, okay?”

Suddenly, the comment from one of her other coworkers about their boss’s “worst kept secret” made a lot more sense.  
“I WON’T.”

And she carried on to her lab station in the main room, working on converting her own viruses (ReDouble had other matters on his docket today, though it didn't look like any of them would be getting done).

As predicted, ReDouble’s processor was nowhere near the lab they were currently in. After about an hour, he started vaping again, pedes propelling him to spin round and round. As he spun, admittedly rather quickly, he blew out another opaque cloud from his intake in a thin stream. It smelled like Energon candies.

After about thirty seconds of spinning, he stopped.  
“Oh! The -- I've got to-”

Mumbling to himself, he casually tossed the pen on his desk. Gadget watched him try to get up from his chair, only to dance the very complicated dance of trying not to topple over while dizzy out of his processor, and pitch suddenly to the side, falling right on his face.

Gadget just stared in not-quite-astonishment. She’d never seen him quite this distracted before, but she had only known him a little while.

ReDouble groaned and got up, stumbling a few more times before settling a shaky balance. Hesitantly, pedes setting down slowly and delicately at first, he crossed the room, still swaying a bit. By the time he got to his destination, he was better, but Gadget’s screen fuzzed snow as the glyphs for “laughing” blipped all over her visor. Oh, Primus. For such a smart bot...ReDouble really was an idiot.

Chopper blades were heard faintly beating the air outside, and ReDouble straightened at his station, seeming to receive a comm.

He dropped the tool in his hand, EM field flaring unadulterated terror, and he took off faster than a turbofox, lab coat fluttering out behind him as his pedes tapped against the floor. Gadget watched him go, screen going blank in worry.

 

\----------

 

Capacitor woke in gradients, feeling like her helm had been stuffed with steel wool. The air was cold, and though her vision was dark, the last waking memory she had was playing on loop. Flux had looked every bit the monster, crashing through the door and aiming a shiny new fusion cannon right at her. 

_Really should have seen it coming,_ Capacitor mused sluggishly. Flux always had been every inch as petty as her sparktwin.

The larger cargo plane’s optics had burned like two miniature suns as she fired, and at first Capacitor hadn't registered the pain; just a white-hot, searing energy as the fuel lines in her inner chestplates had cauterized before they could spill. The next thing she knew, she could vaguely hear Flux laughing, damn her, and then all was silent as every micron of pain hit her at once.

Capacitor groaned, and two smaller servos folder over her own, trembling.  
“Cap?”

She cracked open her optics, helmache burning to life behind them. She groaned again, shutting them, and reached out with her EM field in question. ReDouble’s pressed back, and Capacitor hurt for how scared he was. She squeezed his servos weakly, rasping, and Aberhalde bustled over, tutting.  
“Online, are we sweetspark? Primus, am I glad. I think you saw what the other side is like. You flatlined twice, you know.”

“If I did see it, I don't fuckin remember it,” Capacitor groaned, and ReDouble vented shakily.  
“It’s okay, Cap, just rest, okay? You'll be alright.”

“Yeah, I've gotta be. Like hell I’m gonna let this slide. Somebody’s halls are getting decked if I've got a thing to say about it.”

“Yes, about that,” Aberhalde interrupted, voice at its usual soft pitch.  
“Who did this to you? The scorch marks show this was a point-blank injury.”

“Who do you think,” Capacitor snipped, cracking her optics open.

“Capacitor, so help me Primus, that doesn't tell me a thing! Who did this to you?”

“Flux,” Capacitor grumbled, pissed. _Pissed_ because Flux had one-upped her _yet again_ ; _pissed_ because despite being in different armies Flux was still a higher rank: _pissed_ because she didn't command as many units as Flux did; _pissed_ on principle at that point. Everything about Flux _disgusted_ her.

Aberhalde’s field exploded in shock.  
“Flux? No, no, you must be --”

They laughed nervously, going to sort things on the nearby table.  
“I mean I heard she’d -- she’d -- she, well, you know, associated with that crowd, but -- but this, certainly, no, you must be mistaken-”

“Aberhalde, you said it yourself,” Capacitor intoned. “Point blank range.”

“Flux isn't --” Aberhalde’s very shaky facade crumbled just slightly, and they leaned on the table.  
“Flux isn't -- that kind of -- that kind of mech-”

“Oh, trust me, Quackers,” Capacitor deadpanned, and ReDouble felt a twinge of something uncomfortable in his spark at the name. He pushed it aside. He’d been getting those more often at Capacitor’s behavior, lately, and he didn't like it.

“Trust me,” Capacitor continued, the monitors hooked up to her beeping softly, “War changes people. I’d say with pretty solid certainty that she is most definitely that kind of person now.”

The orange medic crushed the tool in their servo.  
“That damned Megatron -- if he hadn't -- if he hadn't corrupted Flux, she wouldn't-”

“Honestly, if you ask me, the bitch has always had it in her,” the brown cargo plane replied, a bit callously.  
“She’s a dumb, tunnel-minded, goody-goody, hypocritical _cunt_.”

ReDouble made a soft noise, though he wasn't sure if it was in agreement or not. His spark pounded in anxiety upon the thought of encountering the mech that had done this to his conjunx, but the way Aberhalde tried to hide subtle sobbing, perhaps Capacitor’s tirade was poorly timed. 

 

\-------------

 

Capacitor was kept in the medbay for a few weeks, ReDouble spending most of his time by her berthside. Gadget also visited often, though everybody knew she was visiting to see ReDouble and not Capacitor.

It was a widely known secret that Capacitor and Gadget couldn’t stand each other. Many mecha just assumed they were rivals, but all Capacitor saw when she looked at Gadget was a pitiful, obnoxious failure of an Autobot who couldn't find anything useful to do. 

_She couldn't find anything useful to do, so she’s twisted her little hobby into something to please the higher-ups_ , the plane mused as she surveyed her surroundings for the umpteenth time. The walls were a soft silver, with multiple berths in horizontal position in a row. Each one had an accompanying rolling table, made of shiny silver metal. Medical supplies were nearly organized, with measuring equipment in a small basket above each berth. It distracted her from the empurata for a little while, but too soon, Capacitor’s thoughts turned back to Gadget.

Gadget made her uncomfortable on a fundamental level; that blank visor, those claws. Her alt mode switch, her record before the war. All Capacitor saw when she looked at Gadget was a pitiful, wholly obnoxious, ignorant, rebellious failure of a mech, and she took every opportunity to let Gadget know that. 

No matter how fancy that visor was, and no matter what that datacable could do, Gadget was always going to be a troublemaking empurata (a bit redundant, really) in Capacitor’s thinking, and she didn't like the bitch being such close friends with ReDouble. She’d never express that to her dear conjunx -- after all, he could choose who he made friends with, he was a big bot -- but she sure could needle Gadget until the other mech took the hint.

The problem was, Gadget had taken it a long time ago, and had simply resorted to brushing it off. That was when Capacitor had started to hate her. All of this work into her jabs and her public mockery, humiliation presented as friendly teasing, and Gadget didn't give her a scrap of her processor, it seemed like.

Capacitor was broken out of her musings by a case of “speak of the devil”; Gadget walked in, helm swiveling in search of something. ReDouble, probably. Question marks flashed on her visor.

Aberhalde, who was on shift, brightened at her appearance.  
“Gadget, sweetspark! How are you? Is something the matter?”

“NO. WHERE’S REDOUBLE?”

“Was in here half an hour ago, visiting the invalid,” Capacitor cut in, irritated. Gadget’s visor snapped to face her, tilted slightly.  
“FUCK YOU. I DON’T CARE. WHERE DID HE GO?”

“Dunno, Claws,” Capacitor drawled. 

Aberhalde vented suddenly.  
“Both of you, be nice! How’s that visor working, Gadget? Anything unusual? Nothing malfunctioning?”

“IT’S FINE. YOU ALWAYS ASK THAT,” Gadget monotoned, the glyphs for “smiling” popping up on her screen.

“I'm just interested, you know! I just want to make sure everything’s working right.”

“YES, IT’S WORKING FINE. THANK YOU AGAIN.”  
Gadget glanced over at Capacitor, and flashed a rude glyph before leaving.

 

\--------------

 

She ended up in her room, sitting alone on her recharge slab. 

Why did Capacitor hate her so much? Clearly the part about Gadget’s empurata was off-putting (Gadget had stopped being upset about that a while ago -- she was starting to see how it could be a bit disconcerting, really), but Capacitor’s vigor in her campaign puzzled the processor. Her barrage of veiled barbs and condescending nicknames was just exhausting Gadget down to the protoform, and she had tried to be nice and ignore it at first.

Didn't work out so well. So Gadget had started to retort. She had half a mind to make a little bug and loose it on the cargo plane. 

_Not yet. I could least try to be the better person_ , Gadget scolded herself, and vented heavily. It was about to be evening ration time in the mess hall; but lately, she’d found she hadn't had the energy to go very often. She just stayed in to recharge instead.

 

\---------------

 

“What, this lil’ guy, a part of the Wreckers?”  
The two mecha in front of Socketchip laughed heartily, servos clutched over their torsos.  
“You gotta be kiddin’ me!”

The minibot sighed from where he sat, the gun he was stripping and cleaning on the table. They were in the common room, random mecha scattered around the large space. Why these two had chosen to bother him was beyond Socketchip.  
“Yep, that’s me. Big joker, I am.”

“Think you mean _little_ joker,” one burst out, and the other one began cackling even harder.  
“Can you even clean that gun with your claws?”

“Cute,” Socketchip deadpanned, getting up, and his rounded stub-pedes made him wobble back and forth smoothly. It only made the two laugh harder, doubling over.  
“Look, he’s like a little weeble-wobble! Talk about the most _useless_ outlier on the _planet_ -!”

“Alright, what’s going on here?”  
Kup butted in, cygar hanging from his intake.  
“We’re supposed to be prepping for a mission, not standing around gossiping like newframes. Go on, get. The both of you.”

Cowed, the two scrambled away, leaving Socketchip alone. Sheepishly, he grinned, sitting back down to reassemble the weapon. The light from above glinted off his Autobot badge, on his chest, and it caught in Kup’s optics momentarily before disappearing. They both barely noticed.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Kup! They just came over to laugh, y’know, and I was just letting them laugh it out.”

“S’alright, kid. You're in for this mission, by the way. Meet us at the deployment bay, wouldya?”

“Oh, sure!”  
Socketchip swung his legs idly, the hinges at the knees squeaking just a little. His legs were conical, silver, and hollow-looking from the way they splayed out at his hips. It looked like he’d put on a suit, except he’d forgotten the rest of it. The legs ended in small, rounded stubs to help with his outlier ability -- gyroscopic control. 

The good part about it was that he couldn't be knocked off his feet if he was on them. The bad part was...well, he walked funny to say the least.

Most of the Wreckers were just fine about it, and he’d made fast friends with Kup. He’d been friends with Roundabout, and her conjunx Skyline (apparently she went by her old Wrecker nickname Havoc now, and was a Decepticon medic), but Roundabout had died, and Havoc had defected because of it.

He’d tried to make friends with Whirl, but Whirl was hard to do _anything_ with other than fight.

 

\------------

 

Socketchip trotted into the deployment bay, guns at the ready and a big smile on his face.  
“Alright everybody, let’s do this, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, ReDouble absolutely has ADHD. And vaping / spinning in his chair are two of his biggest stims. If you're wondering why a robot who doesn't need to breathe vapes, lighten the fuck up!
> 
> I'm kidding. I do remember seeing JRo tweet out that Velocity vapes, and that Ultra Magnus would as well. Granted Ultra Magnus was mentioned in conjunction with his holoform, but Velocity wasn't, so I'm taking it at face value.
> 
> (Skyline/Havoc and Roundabout belong to Starscrearn).
> 
> What do you think of Socketchip, by the way?


	7. You Know We Had To Do It To 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Gadget Accquires More Emotional Trauma, Flux Is A Petty Bitch, and Socketchip Is Not Having A Good Time :/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to publicly execute me for the title Bc now all I can imagine is Megatron in that stupid fucking pose wsgkgkfg
> 
> Anyways sorry for missing so many update days asdgjkg I'm at my parents' house for the holidays and my family is my divine punishment from hell so my productivity takes a nosedive. But I should be back at university by January 14th (hopefully a couple days earlier, god please) and I'll try and get back on regular schedule. This chapter has been kicking my ass so I just decided to clean it up and post it as is
> 
> enjoy! <3

The first time Megatron played cards with Flux, before the war, he hadn't really expected her to win. Cards just didn't seem like her game, really. Some sort of word puzzle, maybe, but not cards. Gambling games, no less -- Flux was nothing if not fair.

However, the cargo plane kept winning, and Megatron began to notice a pattern. Suspicions grew, and culminated in a game of Slag one day about a thousand years after the start of the war. 

Flux snapped open her hand in a fan, smugness bleeding from every circuit.  
"Lord Megatron, I'm going to slaughter you."

"Except for the fact that you can't cheat this time."

"Right, of course…” Flux set three cards down.  
"Three Primes."

Soundwave looked at his cards, and hummed. Megatron looked at his own, frowning. He had one Prime, and they were playing with one deck. They'd managed to carve out a block of free time before Flux’s next mission, and were gathered around a table in Megatron’s quarters.  
"Slag, Major General."

"Hm. Are you sure about that, my liege?"  
Flux sat back, one eyebrow going up slightly.  
"Think carefully."

Megatron stared her down, narrowing his optics.  
"You're bluffing."

"Care to flip over the cards and find out?"

"Go ahead. I call slag."

Flux smiled sweetly, and reached out to the center of the table, flipping over one Prime, a second Prime, and...

"Dammit!"

Flux cackled, pushing the card pile to him.  
"You should've known better than that!"

"You're counting these damned cards."

"Of course I am! It's not illegal."

Megatron fumed, staring her down and trying not to smile. She was good.

The game ended with Flux coming out victorious once again.  
“Well, losers,” she sighed pitifully, and then laughed, “I hate to win and run, but Conure just commed me -- Transportation Two is ready for deployment. Maybe you can try to win another time.”

And she left, giggling to herself as her heavy pedesteps followed her out the door.

As soon as she left, Megatron scooted over to Soundwave.  
"Did you get footage?"

Soundwave nodded, pulling out a screen. Laserbeak had been perched behind Flux, watching over her shoulder discreetly.

Megatron's optics widened as he saw Flux periodically tease cards out of gaps in her leg armor. How in the fucking hell had she managed that? They hadn't even seen her move.

 

\----------------

 

Gadget walked into the crowded mess hall, looking for a place to sit while she joined the ration line. The hall was loud and rambunctious, filled with people laughing and talking and spilling Energon rations without realizing. Usually, the atmosphere lifted the visored bot and filled her with energy.

This was the first time she'd been to evening meal in a week. Four thousand years into this bullshit, and Gadget was stuck wondering why she hadn't just gone neutral, to some remote planet where she could live out her solitude in peace.

A pretty, familiar mech ran up to her, smiling, and Capacitor sidled up behind Gadget in the line to get rations. She’d been cleared to leave the medbay, but she was out of the field for another month at least. _Unfortunately_. 

"Hi," the other mech -- Databank was her name, Gadget thought -- said, beaming as her hands reached out to grab one of the empurata’s claws. Gadget brushed aside the shame at her spiteful thought as those warm servos enveloped her pincers. 

"I -- I hadn't seen you here in a while, you know? I was worried about you!"

Gadget's fans clicked on as she tried to hide pleased embarrassment.  
It was odd somebody was professing any sort of interest in her at all, but Gadget wasn't complaining. After all, she’d managed to get laid for the first time in months just a couple of weeks ago because a mech had wanted to see if empurata could feel pleasure. He wasn't her type, and honestly, it was barely passable (Gadget hadn't overloaded) but it was the first positive contact she’d had in...hell, years. 

Okay, so that was a bit concerning.  
"I -- I'M FINE. THANK YOU."

"Of course!"  
Databank paused, something like shyness flitting across her face before a miniature datapad, for notes, was slipped into Gadget's pincers.  
"Y-you look really nice today."

And with that, she ran off, giggling to herself. Gadget watched her go, static foaming across her screen with awe and wonderment. She'd always liked Databank, but...Gadget? Pretty? She really thought so?

Capacitor shoved Gadget's shoulder.  
"Move it, would you, Faceless? You're holding up the line. Let's hope that poor mech gets some optic adjustment, huh?"

Gadget shuffled on, world falling out of focus as something in her shut off on instinct. It was odd. She could feel pain, threatening to crest, just off the horizon. A strange sort of numbness kept it at bay. _Maybe empurata can't feel things like other mecha_ , Gadget mused, and then a wave of horror crashed through her. She snatched the ration presented to her and fled the mess hall as quickly and discreetly as she could, fleeing all the way to her room and locking the door.

She slumped against it, heels scraping against the ground until her aft touched the floor. Static fuzzed from her vocalizer, snow foaming on her screen. Glyphs for “crying” thrashed about atop the snow, but no matter how much she wanted to cry, longed to, no tears would ever come from her again. After all, the visor was the best anybody could do for her.

Another stab of shame. Aberhalde had really done their best. And Gadget liked her visor! To be bitter about it just...soured her non-existent taste receptors. 

Gently, she set the ration and the mini-datapad aside (she caught the blurred numbers of a comm frequency) and buried her not-face in her arms. Her plating crawled thinking about the mech who had managed to convince her to interface a couple of weeks ago. She hadn't really wanted to -- he wasn't really her type, and he had an empurata fetish to boot -- but he’d made the point that nobody without an empurata fetish would really want to fuck her, and she’d seen his point and taken the offer.

She pushed the heebie-jeebies aside. He was right, after all.

“Move it, Faceless,” Capacitor’s voice sneered in her processor, and two more glyphs for “crying” appeared on Gadget’s visor to crowd her screen. She hunched further into herself, and let herself dissolve into the mental breakdown for the first time in at least a year.

She never did comm Databank.

 

\-----------

 

Flux pushed Conure’s shoulder, both of them giggling as they entered the sleazy dive bar. It was a popular spot for on-leave 'Bots and 'Cons, due to the fact that it was the only spot still around at the point in the war. 

It had gotten ugly. Megatron had started to turn into somebody Flux wasn't so sure she liked. His policy of “strike first” against the organics made Flux’s tanks flip with nausea. So, to take her mind off it, she’d come here. The bar had long since lost its sign out front, an errant shot having blown it clean off. The rest of the bar was a ceasefire -- not because the two sides could get along, but because they knew a scuffle could easily level the bar. A million years of war was a pretty good track record for surviving, Flux thought.

Conure's sensory crest flared, and she tensed, as the rest of the unit shuffled in behind them.

"What is it, Birdie?" Flux laughed, affectionate nickname slipping out. Conure was the leader of Transportation Two's vanguard, and her flightiness had granted her the nickname “Birdie” amongst the ranks.

"’Bots," Conure said, jerking her head to the counter. Flux followed the gesture and saw Capacitor sitting on a stool, with her unit taking up the stools and chairs around her.

Flux ground her dentals. Not one moment of peace? Fuck this.

"Ah, hell. I'm getting a drink, you all can leave if you want," she proclaimed, going over and sitting directly next to Capacitor. It was partly to create a barrier between Cap and Flux's crew, and partly a power move.

Okay, so it was petty. The look on Capacitor's face as Flux hauled her left arm up and slammed it on the countertop to lean on made it all worth it.  
"Double shot of something mild," Flux called to the bartender, pretending not to notice Capacitor. 

The bartender slid her the order, and she raised the glass to him before bringing it to her intake. Capacitor tapped her digits against the counter irritatedly (and nervously), and Flux feigned shock, setting the drink down.  
"Lieutenant Capacitor! Why, I didn't see you there, you're so tiny."

Capacitor ground her dentals, jaw creaking.  
"Major General Flux. What brings you here?"

"Same as you, I s'pose," Flux said, a little too casually, and the bartender watched them both nervously, optics flicking between the two badges.

Beside Flux, Conure and the others eyed the Autobots much in the same way that Flux and Capacitor were watching each other -- wary, tense, forced politeness oozing out of them. 

Capacitor subtly pointed a blaster at Flux under the counter, keeping it offline. The sparktwins eyed each other for a long moment, and, without breaking optic contact, took their shots, helms flying back in tandem to down the drinks.

 

\-----------------

 

_“Please,” Senator Decimus urged the newcomer. He was tall and blurry, and while Socketchip was in laser-pointer form and by rights, shouldn't have been able to see anything, he was unrecognizable. Another blurry figure sat next to Saeva. He was close enough to recognize -- why couldn't Socketchip see him?_

_“Please, come in. This is of the utmost urgency, you understand.”_

_The minibot had the darkest horror, growing in his spark -- something was about to go horribly wrong -- wrong, awfully, terribly wrong, but he didn't know what. He was never allowed to be out of laser-pointer form during meetings -- Saeva made sure to drill that home -- but maybe he could...he could transform, run to get help-_

_“Lock the door, please,” the first mystery figure said, tones of worry in his voice, and Socketchip’s tanks flipped. Something was wrong with Senator Shockwave._

_“Thank you,” the figure said, tone shifting, and Saeva had time to cry out before blaster shots peppered him wide open and Socketchip fell to the floor to roll under the table. Senator Saeva slumped forwards, chin hitting the table as he fell to cover Socketchip, nearly crushing him-_

Socketchip woke with a horrified scream, clutching his sheets before realizing he wasn't back with Senator Saeva. 

He sighed, sagging back against his recharge slab. That same nightmare again...always the same. Maybe he could go see that psych that did the Wrecker evaluations. The minibot had heard he was pretty good. 

Socketchip’s previous thoughts of Senator Saeva sent a fresh shock of terror through his lines, and his claws flew up to meet faceplates, patting and clanking to check and see if his head was still attached. Upon finding no single-optic setup, he relaxed, falling back against his pillows and back into recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slag is just the game Bullshit. That's all it is. XD and Flux "fairness is one of my core values" of Lower Crestover is one of the worst cheating motherfuckers at cards


	8. Step the FUCK Up, Lord Megatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Megatron's downward spiral into fuckheadedness from Flux's perspective. I try to keep my chapters about 2000 words, but this one is about 4000. It's Flux-centric.
> 
> In short? Staple your hands to your ass, Megatron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah uh Flux is, shockingly, not down with literal genocide
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy! <3

“What?”

Flux recovered from her quiet outburst of chuckling, swirling her drink as she sat across from Megatron in his habsuite. His decoration was still spartan, even as a warlord who could conceivably seize anything he liked.  
“Nothing, it’s just -- I remember, once, I told somebody I didn't make trouble.”

Megatron choked on his own fuel, fit of coughing falling into hearty laughter as his servo slammed the table. It vibrated with the impact, and the warlord’s laugh made the air feel warmer. For just a moment, they were back in his gladiator’s quarters, laughing it up over some shitty fuel and mutual affection. Flux clung to the feeling as long as she could.

“In my defense,” the plane joked after Megatron had calmed a little, “I was fresh out of the mold.”

“Ah, cold constructed?”

“Mhm. Me and Cap both. I think cold construction is beautiful, you know? Just -- one day, _poof!_ You can cobble somebody together with bits and bobs and everybody’s unique. You can just create life -- at a _whim!_ I think it’s just amazing.”

Megatron smirked, eyeing her oddly.  
“You find beauty in the strangest things.”

“Somebody has to around here,” Flux deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow. Megatron conceded that, opening a palm and dipping his head with a shrug of the lips that said “alright, I'll give you that”.

“How are you doing?” The cargo plane asked, suddenly more serious.

“Flux, you see me every day.”

“In a professional setting! I want to know how my friend is doing. Things have been...different lately.”

“I suppose I'm doing well.”  
Megatron sipped at his Energon.  
“Nervous, really. Quite a lot of dissenters out there.”

Flux raised an eyebrow critically, and Megatron amended his statement.  
“Disloyal ones, Flux. Your counsel is valuable to me, however ugly it can get.”

“That’s the problem, Megatron,” Flux explained, exasperatedly as she put her fuel aside to lean forwards, arms opening as if to plead reason.  
“What draws the line for disloyal? Who decides that? And how would you keep that in check? A certain amount of dissent is healthy! It lets you know how to proceed with matters.”

“I have an idea in the works for keeping that in check,” Megatron waved her points aside.  
“And I am worried because certain disloyal dissenters might try to employ assassination as one of their tactics.”

Flux sighed, leaning back so her landing gear hit the back of the chair.  
“Megatron, have you ever considered you're more unpopular because we’re not doing the right thing?”

Megatron surveyed her over his fuel, thoughtfully.  
“You're still upset about the organics.”

“Of course I am! It’s never sat right with me, the things we’re doing.”

Megatron nodded.  
“I'll take that into advisement.”

“Megatron, you said that to me a month ago, and then you proceeded to cyberform Nassica,” Flux plead frustratedly.  
“I can't help but feel you don't value my counsel as much as you say you do!”

 

\------------

 

Flux stormed onto the bridge, scowling. It wasn't her shift, but after the fourth advisement in a row brushed aside, she was done being nice about it.  
“My liege,” she called, through gritted dentals. Megatron, at the head of the bridge, turned in surprise. Flux stared him down, yellow optics burning.  
“A word, if you would? _Now,_ please?”

Megatron waved a servo.  
“Go ahead.”

“ _You'll want me to say this in private_ ,” Flux ground out, plating rising in unspoken challenge. At that, Megatron’s eyebrow rose, and he nodded slowly, walking to stand beside her.  
“To my quarters. You lead the way.”

That set chatter ablaze on the bridge, but both ignored it. There were plenty of rumors about an affair between them, but they didn't have any merit. It was best to ignore them.

Flux stomped ahead of Megatron, fists clenched as her audials whistled quietly like a teakettle with rage. Thanks to the way her helm vents were structured, they tended to whistle when she became extremely worked up.

She opened the door and gestured for Megatron to go first, extending an arm and bowing, absolutely fuming. He paused for a second, suspiciously, and entered, flicking on the lights.

Flux entered behind him and slammed the door.  
“Fucking _really_ , Megatron? The Decepticon _Justice_ Division? Have you lost your _fucking_ processor?”

“Flux, I-”

“Shut up! I'm not done! I know you're worried about disloyalty, but creating an elite unit of your personal _butchers_ is _not_ the way to ease dissent! Primus, I'm following a psychopath,” she breathed, stepping back and placing her face in her hands. She vented for a moment, and then stepped forwards again, hands falling away. One pointed aggressively in Megatron’s face.  
“This has gone too far! That isn't even an appropriate _approximation_ for how far things have gone! Justice, Megatron! Is that what they're calling it these days? I ought to -- I ought to-”

She huffed and puffed furiously, finger still in Megatron’s face aggressively.  
“You -- you bastard! This is not what I stood up and spoke for, this is not what I'm fighting for!”

Megatron waited a few moments, and cleared his throat.  
“Are you finished?”

Flux almost smacked him, but she restrained herself.  
“I'll let you explain yourself, but I am in _no way_ done.”

“Good. Don't ever tell me to shut up again, is that _clear_ , Major General?”  
Megatron’s own plating rose in direct threat, and he shoulder checked her as he stormed out, forcing her to stagger out of his way so she didn't clothesline him with her wing. He left the door open for her to leave on the way out.

“You fucking oilstain!” Flux exclaimed under her breath, storming out into the hallway to make a very aggressive rude gesture at his back. Then, she shut the door behind herself and raged all the way to her own quarters, spark burning with anger. 

 

\------------

 

Flux threw the doors of the bridge open, plating puffed up and vents howling.

“ _Megatron!_ ” She bellowed, as loudly as she could. All activity on the bridge screeched to a halt, and Flux launched directly into a heated rant about Megatron’s latest offense, starting with, “You are a _fucking idiot!_ ”

If he wanted to ignore her counsel, fine. _Ignore it after it’s yelled at full volume in public_ , Flux thought spitefully as she drove herself into a froth, tears coming from her eyes at one point. Everyone on the bridge but Megatron was frozen in awestruck terror.

Flux finished her piece, and, chestplates heaving with her vents, bowed low, fist over her badge.  
“Thank you for listening, my liege.”

And with that, she exited just as huffily as she’d come, leaving a totally silent bridge behind her. 

Unsurprisingly, she got a comm minutes afterwards.  
**:Report to my quarters in an hour.:**

Flux almost sent back “suck my spike”, but she didn't. Truly, she should have been made a Prime for that restraint. Primus, Megatron was just so -- so stubborn! 

The huge cargo plane reported to her leader’s quarters as requested, closing the door behind her and clasping her hands behind her back. Megatron sat at the table, digits tapping irritably on the surface.  
“How _dare_ you speak to me that way in public, Major General.”

Flux’s mouth soured into an angry frown.

“You disrespected me in front of everyone on the bridge,” Megatron thundered lowly, getting up to walk over in front of her, subtly getting in her face. She held her ground, saying nothing.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself about your behavior?” Megatron’s optics burned accusingly, his mouth set in a harsh frown.

“If you would listen to me, I wouldn't have to call you out in front of everybody,” she said immediately, and Megatron growled, staring her down.  
“It seems to me that your version of listening is bending to your will, Major General.”

“My version of listening is not brushing it aside just because you don't feel like paying attention to it,” Flux snarled back, pointing at him. The air was chilled, Megatron’s room dim and shadowed.

“You should count herself lucky I don't-”  
Megatron cut himself off with a growl, turning away from Flux to brood silently. The plane’s vents clicked up another notch.  
“That you don't what, Megatron?”

Megatron didn't answer.

“That you don’t send the DJD after me, is that it? Hm? Admit it, you fucking animal!”

“Yes, that I don't put you on the List!” Megatron howled back, whipping around to face her.  
“You cannot sow opposition like that and expect me not to take action, Major General!”

Flux curled her lip.  
“Don't play with me. If you're going to put me on a hit list, just do it.”

And she shoved her way out of his room, slamming the door behind herself.

 

\-------------

 

After that, Megatron apparently decided to let her public tantrums slide -- and there were certainly more of them. Flux found she and Megatron were drifting apart, and while one part of her insisted that Megatron was too different and she didn't even enjoy his company any more, another part of her ached for his friendship, shuddering and heaving. Recharge was hard to come by these days, either from guilt so intense it ate her alive...or sitting up, facing the door to her habsuite, with her fusion cannon online as she waited for the Decepticon Justice Division. Logically, she knew they wouldn't get her here -- they'd wait until she was on a mission, and as far as she knew, she wasn't on The List anyways -- but she found herself unable to stop.

She was jolted out of her personal musings by Conure waving a servo in her vision.  
“Planet to Fluxie! It’s your turn.”

Flux shook her head quickly, venting, and laid down two threes.  
“Two threes.”

Conure laid down a card.  
“One four. You alright, Major General? You've been a little down lately, it seems.”

“Just have a lot on my mind,” Flux replied distractedly. Conure’s sensory crest flared hesitantly, the bright colors glinting in the light.  
“Come on, you don't even play cards as much anymore. We’re all...kind of worried for you.”

The various members of her units all murmured their assent at the gathered tables, and it warmed Flux’s spark. She smiled, tiredly, and shrugged.  
“I'll be alright.”

“It’s the fights with Lord Megatron, isn't it?”  
For all of her exterior as a scatterbrained party animal, Conure really was quite sharp. Flux nodded, scrubbing her shuttered optics by pinching the bridge of her nose and sliding her digits over her optics.

“You could just...stop,” someone else suggested.  
“It would probably make things a lot more harmonious. Oh, and two eights.”

“He needs to hear a different viewpoint,” Flux defended, “and I don't hear anybody else giving him one at this point. So I can't just ‘stop’. Also, Slag.”

“What, why?”

“Because I have three.”

The bot groaned and swept the deck towards themselves as the cargo plane chuckled smugly.

Conure frowned, surveying her commanding officer.  
“As long as you're okay.”

“I'm fine. I promise.”  
She stood, pushing away from the table to stretch.  
“But I _am_ tired, so I'll leave you sparklings to this. I'm going to go try and get some recharge before my shift.”

There were a few smatterings of “recharge well” following her out the door, and she waved behind her back before exiting. As she walked down the hall, her comm pinged.  
**:Are you busy?:**

**:Not particularly, my liege.:**

**:Come to my quarters, then.:**

Flux passed her room and walked until she stood at the door to Megatron’s, hesitating before knocking and pushing her way in.  
“You wished to see me, Megatron?”

“Come on in.”  
Megatron sat at the table, a cube of fuel at the seat across from him. He held his own. Flux obeyed, subtly casting a look at all the dark corners of the room. Something didn't feel right. 

Upon finding nothing, she shut the door behind herself and crossed the room to sit down, taking the cube in her servos. She hesitated to drink. Surely this meeting couldn't be good -- they never were, anymore. Apprehension gripped her spark. Maybe he wouldn't put her on The List. Maybe he would just poison her and quietly dispose of her.

Megatron sipped at his own fuel, and eyed her. His face was unreadable.  
“How are you?”

“Fine,” Flux answered, rather tersely. 

“You're not in trouble,” Megatron reassured, and Flux’s entire frame immediately went slack with relief, as she let out a huge vent.  
“Oh, thank Primus!”

She took a drink from the cube, and calculated how fast she could get to the medbay from here. She was comfortable with the odds, but she didn't take another drink. Megatron chuckled.  
“We haven't done this in a while.”

“Things are rather different,” Flux agreed. 

“Indeed. You look tired.”

“I am,” the cargo plane answered, dim light glinting off her cockpit windows.  
“I'm exhausted.”

“Drink, while it’s warm,” Megatron urged, and Flux was overwhelmed with sudden gratitude, beaming. It had become unusual for her leader to pay such care, and now that he was, she found herself unable to stop her spark from getting sucked in wholly. This...this was how he kept her in her shackles, Flux mused, as she graciously drank long draughts of the fuel. Not with fear, or rhetoric -- no, he had a much more simple tactic. He simply withheld affection and dispensed it as he saw fit, leaving her in craving valleys of crushing loneliness at his discretion. This was more effective than any division would be in her case, and they both knew it.  
“Thank you,” she implored, after she’d finished. 

Megatron just sat back, setting his own cube aside.  
“Of course. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Flux vented, elbows resting on the table.  
“A...a lot. And you've heard most of it.”

“You have made quite sure of that,” Megatron half-joked, and then waved the notion aside.  
“But we’re not here to talk about that. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Flux admitted. She tried to smile, but it gave her trouble, face fighting it.  
“Trouble recharging, you know.”

Something cold slid down her face, and she touched it, surprised to see her digits come away wet with optic lubricant.  
“Oh -- I -- I apologize, I-”

She turned her head to wipe the tears, and found they wouldn't stop. She placed a servo over her face, and gritted her dentals, trying to take measured vents to force them to stop.

The sound of a chair sliding scraped quietly on the floor, and Megatron’s servo extended.  
“Come here.”

Flux rose so fast her chair squealed, hiccuping, and blindly found her way to Megatron. Her servos reached for him in a desperate bid for promised comfort, and her shuffling journey ended half-falling, half-leaning against him as her forehelm hit his shoulder plates. Behind her shoulder, Megatron’s face tightened at the contact -- he’d developed a fierce aversion to touch in the last millennia -- but he simply wrapped a servo around Flux’s waist to rub soothingly at her backplates. 

The cargo plane’s frame wracked with heaving, quiet sobs as she reached up to hug Megatron closer, entire frame craving the positive contact. 

“You _bastard_ , you,” Flux cried, nuzzling further into his shoulder plating. Megatron just hummed once in response, engines purring. 

Finally, she cried herself out, and Megatron helped her sit down before returning to his own seat. Tiredly, Flux produced a rag from her subspace and tossed it his way, swiping a servo across her own faceplates to clear them.  
“I apologize, I don't know what came over me.”

“It’s good to let things out once in a while,” Megatron dismissed, waving a servo. He scrubbed the rag over his shoulder once or twice, and passed it back to her over the table.  
“Come to me if you're feeling like that again, understand?”

Flux nodded, slumped against the table. Now that her crying jag was done, a struts-deep exhaustion surged through her, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. Megatron set his still unfinished fuel aside.  
“I'll walk you back. You need recharge. Take the day off tomorrow, to rest. Is that clear?”

“As a bell,” the cargo plane answered, and allowed herself to be helped up. She didn't need it, but her friend was paying attention to her, attention that was soft touches instead of barely-restrained rage, and she drank it in greedily.

That night, she didn't lay awake. She just collapsed hard into a thick, black, dreamless recharge.

 

\-------------

 

Flux stood, arms crossed as she stared Megatron down. She’d been called to the bridge, and it was just her, Megatron, and Soundwave. It had been mere months after her quiet breakdown in Megatron’s quarters.  
"What is this about, my liege?"

Megatron frowned thunderously, and looked at Soundwave, who nodded, playing back a recording of Flux.  
"With all due respect, General, I won't tolerate that kind of talk in my chain of command. The Autobots and Decepticons were fighting for the same thing, and I think we're being downright stupid fighting each other now. So I would be very careful about badmouthing our opponents. Afford some respect."

Flux evenly held Megatron's optics.  
"Yes. I said that. Are you expecting me to take it back? I would hope you know me better than that."

"I do. I hope you're not having-"

"-second thoughts? I hope you're not questioning my loyalty, Lord Megatron. I hope to Primus you aren't giving me _grave insult_ by seriously standing in front of me and doubting my devotion to the Cause. To _you_."

Megatron looked vaguely taken aback.  
"Should I?"

Flux slapped him, and instantly returned her arms to being crossed as he reeled in shock.

"You-"

"After all I have _done_ for you, and all I have _watched_ you do, _this_ is how you repay me?"  
Flux's voice was tight with rage. Her silver tongue hadn't lost its impassioned bite.  
"I have watched my morals crumble like _sand_ in the desperate, spark-deep hope that one day we will be better and return to being a voice for the disenfranchised instead of -- of a roving band of murderous _guttermecha,_ and I have done it all for _you _."__

__Megatron was shocked into silence, and Flux was secretly grateful he hadn't shot her yet.  
"Time after time, action after _dross_ action, and I have stood by you through it all. You're lucky my moral foundation is built on loyalty, you _animal_ , or my helm would've decorated the _Peaceful Tyranny_ on a spear ages ago. I'm complicit in _genocides_ , Megatron. I can't take that back. Oh, I tried, _tried_ to talk you out of it. But it seems all of your talk about taking down corrupt systems was hot air!"_ _

__Flux vented, a heavy blast.  
"Quite frankly, I'm _beyond_ disappointed. I'm so angry my spark may very well burn out. And now, your -- your _lowness_ having reached new heights, you stand before me and question my _loyalty_ after forcing my servo to participate in _genocide_ for you?"_ _

__Flux curled her lip.  
"I would rather you just put me on The List."_ _

__Megatron paused, vents pouring hot air as he grew very still.  
"And what does that mean, Major General?"_ _

__"It means," Flux said, quieting and leaning in, "that you're an idiot to think I'm going anywhere. So if this tips the scales and you send your lapdogs after me, so be it. But you had better be prepared to lose at least one of them, because if I'm going down because of your unfounded suspicion, I'm taking somebody else with me."_ _

__Soundwave watched as the two mecha stared each other down, neither willing to look away first. Faintly, Flux's audials whistled, a sign she was well and truly pissed._ _

__"Am I dismissed, my liege?"_ _

__Megatron paused for a few moments.  
"Yes."_ _

__Flux stepped back and knelt deeply, fist over her badge. After a second or two of deference, she rose, storming out._ _

__

__\--------------_ _

__

__Megatron didn't question her loyalty again after that. The cycle of withholding and giving continued, and Flux knew he was nurturing codependency -- knew he was aware she was onto him -- and however much it burned her alive, she couldn't stop herself from seeking that approval. As promised, she often came to him when she was overwhelmed, and that behavior was always rewarded with more affection._ _

__However, the one time Flux had gone to Havoc, to commiserate, Megatron had iced her out. There were no get-togethers between the two of them for the next month. It wasn't until Flux came knocking at his door to apologize that he let her in, gave her a drink, and talked with her until something called him away._ _

__Flux thought on this cycle as she reported to the bridge for a mission. The change in Megatron had been so gradual, she hadn't realized he was a whole different mech until it was far, far too late._ _

__She opened the doors to the bridge and bowed.  
“My liege.”_ _

__“Ah, Major General. Excellent. Report to these coordinates with General Conure. You two work well together. Shockwave has a batch of ores he needs for another experiment.”_ _

__Flux’s comm pinged with a datapacket, and she bowed.  
“Consider it done.”_ _

__“I have no doubt,” Megatron said, and it warmed Flux’s spark that it was said as praise rather than a threat. It had her smiling all the way to deployment bay, even through her comm to Conure.  
**:Report to deployment bay. We've got a mission.:**_ _

__Conure’s reply was instant.  
**:Roger that. Your glyphs are chipper! Something to smile about?:**_ _

__The cargo plane chuckled as she entered the bay and transformed at the head of the runway. Her t-cog echoed _chugh-chugh-tsche_ in the open, wide-ceilinged space. Minutes later, Conure came in, and transformed as well -- _chik-shnick-che!__ _

__A high performance flight engine revved alongside the cargo plane’s steady drone, and the colorful jet rumbled._ _

__Flux took that as the signal to take off as the deployment bay’s doors opened, speeding down the runway and zooming out into open air. Conure followed at her tail, and Flux let herself feel the air, spark easing. She’d been a bit skysick lately. It was nice to be up in the air again._ _

__As the two made their journey, Conure hung back a little, monitoring from a bird’s eye vantage point. Halfway through, she commed Flux.  
**:We’ve got company!:**_ _

__The whine of propellers accompanied Conure’s warning, and Flux groaned.  
**:Dammit.:**_ _

__Capacitor swooped in from the clouds like some sort of avenging angel, a vanguard unit behind her, and peppered Flux with blaster fire. Two of Capacitor’s vanguard broke off and began to hound Conure. One shot hit home and the jet screamed, spiraling into a harsh nosedive._ _

__“Conure!” Flux cried, immediately diving herself. Within seconds of losing altitude, she commed all three of her own vanguards, praying they would get here in time._ _

__Her wheels touched the ground and she transformed, running to the spot where Conure had crashed. She’d transformed, lying face-up in the crater. One of her engines had exploded, and her birdlike legs were a mangled mess of delicate metal. Flux rushed to cradle her, panic gripping her spark.  
“Conure! Answer me!”_ _

__Conure stirred, coughing in response, and Flux bowed her head, thanking Primus for miracles. She’d never been religious. But it couldn't hurt._ _

__Transformation sounds echoed behind them, and Capacitor nudged Flux’s helm with a blaster.  
“Get up.”_ _

__Flux slowly put Conure down, and raised her servos, smoothly getting up from her knees. The gun followed her helm until Capacitor ran out of height._ _

__“Turn around. _Slowly_. One wrong move, and this baby’ll blow your spark -- or your processor, I'm not picky -- right out of this plane of existence.”_ _

__Flux did as asked, slowly shuffling to face Capacitor and keeping her arms up, palms open. Capacitor was flanked by her vanguard, and they were all standing behind her with their arms crossed like some sort of stage group._ _

__Capacitor clunked the gun against Flux’s badge, grinning.  
“I've been waiting to pay you back for your little stunt with that fusion cannon. I mean, sure, we've had our scuffles in between then and now, but this...high command wanted you alive if you were ever captured, so unfortunately I can't do what I'd like to, but it’s still a sweet moment.”_ _

__Conure groaned. The head of Capacitor’s vanguard cleared his throat.  
“What about the other one?”_ _

__“Leave her. She’ll die eventually.”_ _

__Flux ground her dentals. Just a few more minutes -- stall for a few minutes…_ _

__“For someone who claims to be so morally superior, you have a shit moral compass.”_ _

__“What, does that hurt your feelings?”_ _

__“Decepticons take care of their own,” Flux replied, shrugging.  
“I'll go quietly if you get Conure some medical care.”_ _

__Capacitor sneered.  
“What makes you think I would do any favors for you?”_ _

__“It’s not for me, it’s for the fact that you didn't leave someone to die a slow, painful death in their own crash site,” Flux snapped, plating rising. Capacitor’s hackles rose as well.  
“Fine! We’ll take her then.”_ _

__The buzz of high-powered jet engines pierced the air, and Flux smirked as Capacitor and her crew frantically scanned the sky for the source. Flux took her opportunity. She punted Capacitor as hard as she could manage, and the other bot cried out, landing flat on her ass with a healthy dent in her side.  
"You fucking bitch!"_ _

__Flux ran for it, scooping Conure up as three V-formations of hardened Decepticon firepower thundered down from the sky._ _

__The cargo plane transformed, Conure safely strapped down in her cargo storage, and took off, soaring up into the sky and comming Havoc to meet her at her destination._ _

__

__\-----------_ _

__

__It was on her way back that Flux commed Megatron.  
**:Mission accomplished.:**_ _

**:Excellent. Come to my quarters to give your report.:**

The time in between her touching back down in deployment bay and her standing in front of Megatron’s door passed in a blur. Everyone was oddly on edge, the halls deathly quiet. 

__Flux opened the door, venting.  
“Megatron, you will not _believe_ the day I've-” cutting herself off, she stopped dead, optics widening just a fraction.  
“-had.” 

Across the round table, a seat over from  
where Flux usually sat, was Tarn. 


	9. Take a Chill Pill, Your Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All around me are familiar faces....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three more days until I'm back home! This chapter was giving me a hard time too :( but I think it turned out well?

The explosions ringing in Socketchip’s audials shook the very ground beneath his pedes, and he ducked further behind his cover, grinning. These ‘Cons hadn't even known what hit them! 

Hoots and hollers echoed from behind him, where more of his comrades were hidden, throwing grenades like no tomorrow. The hallway they were in was narrow, some old service tunnel they'd flushed their opponents into, and it was littered with cover. The fuel raced in Socketchip’s lines, his spark pulsing with energy, and he turned back, cupping a claw to his mouth.  
“Do Wreckers call for backup?”

A unified chorus of “ _No!_ ” answered him and he took in a gust of a vent.   
“What do we call for, then?”

“Wreckers call for _cleanup!_ ” his fellows howled, whooping like madmecha and doubling their efforts. One poor ‘Con bastard deserted his post, looking over his shoulder like Primus himself was about to smite him.

The Wreckers picked through the carnage in the aftermath, Socketchip wobbling as he hopped his way through mangled bodies and limbs.   
“Boy, this sure was a doozie,” he chattered, face naturally set into a smile, even as he gathered any weapons they could salvage from the dead ‘Cons.

“I think if I see any more dead ‘Cons, I'll start having weird dreams about it,” someone else cackled, and the other Wreckers gathered guffawed. 

 

\---------------------

 

Gadget held the syringe out to ReDouble, who inserted it in the syringe chamber. The click echoed forebodingly in the interrogation chamber, and the prisoner they had strapped down to the chair thrashed in his restraints. Gadget had to turn away, tanks flipping. Lately, she had been functioning as ReDouble’s glorified lab assistant, crafting viruses for him and helping him interrogate prisoners. It was technically above his pay grade, but the war was dragging. It was dragging with no good end in sight, and high command was getting desperate. Thus...ReDouble and his division had to get their servos a little dirty. Gadget dreaded these interrogations, she dreaded hearing that another prisoner had been brought back...

The green and white microscope tested the fluid in the syringe, and Gadget shuddered, nearly purging. This was veering sickeningly close to mnemosurgery. 

The ‘Con in the chair squirmed.   
“You'll never get me talking!”

“Maybe not, this _is_ experimental,” ReDouble murmured, unintentionally threatening. Gadget’s screen fussed static messily, the glyphs for “scared" wiggling on her visor. She hated these, she hated them…

It wasn't the interrogation, or the shady tactics. Perhaps it said something about her, but she couldn't muster up the energy to care about anyone but herself these days, if that. But the needles -- the borderline mnemosurgery -- it brought up old fears she’d never shaken. 

Behind her, the ‘Con gurgled, and she hugged herself tighter. First, his optics would smoke, and he would make a choking noise. Then, his processor fluid would leak out of his audials -

“Eugh! Gadget, couldn’t you make something a little cleaner? Er -- Gadget? Are you alright?”

ReDouble came over to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away. _Touch_ caused her plating to crawl like scraplets.   
“AND THEN HIS PROCESSOR WILL COMBUST,” Gadget finished narrating, more to herself. ReDouble paused, confused, and looked back at the prisoner.

“Primus!”

Gadget scurried back to the lab in the confusion, holing herself away in her lab. She plunked herself in her chair, and drew her knees up under her chin, shaking. Between mnemosurgery or death, she would always choose death.

 

\------------------------

 

“Er -- should I come back, my liege?”  
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Flux was very sure this was her last hour alive, and she pulled up the draft of her will that she’d written. She queued it to auto-send to General Regus, the leader of Transportation One, in an hour if she didn't stop it. Getting a will and testament from their commanding officer would be jarring at the very least, and Flux desperately hoped that wasn't how things were going to go.

Megatron waved Flux over from where she stood in the doorway.  
"Not at all. Please, come in. Tarn has just finished giving his own report."

It wasn't looking good…

Flux kept panic very far away from her face and frame, and came in, closing the door behind herself. She crossed the room to stand by Megatron's side, keeping her backplates very straight and her servos clasped behind her back. She could feel Tarn watching her with quiet interest.

"Mission had a small snag, Lord Megatron," she reported, "but overall, it went well, and there were no casualties."

"Casualties? What happened?"

"Autobot Lieutenant Capacitor hunted us down and attempted to take me into custody. Conure was shot down, but is recovering in the medbay."

"Well, here's to hoping she gets better soon," Megatron said, calmly, and Tarn nodded, humming his agreement. It twanged at Flux's spark, and she wondered if that was on purpose, or she was just imagining things. She denied a request for her fans to come on. It did no good showing panic in the sparkeater's den. 

"Indeed, my liege. Shockwave has the ores, as they were delivered successfully."

Megatron nodded, sipping fuel from a cube as he absorbed her preliminary report.  
"Excellent job, Major General. Please, sit. I'll fetch you a cube. Tarn and I were just talking."

Fuck. Was this how she was going to die? Not poison, not an outright hit -- no, a quiet assassination in Megatron's quarters? 

Flux took a seat, graciously accepting the cube handed to her as Megatron sat back down.  
"Now, where were we?"

"I must confess, I don't quite remember," Tarn said, and his voice was disgustingly gentle. Flux sipped at her own cube to hide the quirk of her mouth corners. 

Tarn turned to her, his red optics glowing in the dim light, and Flux put her cube down. The mask tilted with Tarn's helm, just ever so slightly.  
"I've read some of your work on the Big Conversation. It's lovely. Your literary analysis blog of Towards Peace is quite spectacular.”

Flux's spark tightened, and her tanks flipped.  
"Thank you. It's just something I do to occupy my free hours, or else I would waste away playing cards."

"Well," Tarn chuckled, "we wouldn't want that, now would we?" 

Flux forced a laugh, and to her pleased surprise, it didn't _sound_ forced. Her entire frame was cold but her faceplates were so hot, so hot...her vents felt frozen shut. 

"It's simply -- excuse me, for digressing -- your most recent statement, discussing the line 'make no mistake, your life is mapped out in front of you, as clear as the grooves in your transformation cog' -- sublime, honestly. Very impressive. I agree -- it does project a feeling of doom to the work, which is resolved later in the last paragraph of that page."

"Thank you," Flux replied, trying to keep strangulation out of her voice. Tarn was slightly leaned forwards, palm open, eager to discuss. Megatron sat back in his chair, frowning just a bit. He didn't much feel like hosting a literary club tonight -- Tarn was really just supposed to give his report and go, but the tank had stayed, stars in his optics for his leader. While Megatron had wanted to have a chat, and he didn't regret inviting Flux in, he knew a literary discussion could go on for hours.

Flux gave Tarn some other literary tidbit to chew on, and his optics widened, as he nodded.  
"Indeed! I hadn't considered that, most fascinating. Simply excellent."

He took a sip of his fuel through the mask, and Flux very subtly shot Megatron a Look out of the corner of her optics, not moving her helm. Her fingers began to drum on the table, and to stop them, she lifted her own cube to her intake. 

Too soon, she finished it, as Tarn sought Megatron's commentary as well. 

"My liege?" Flux asked. Two sets of red optics turned to her.  
"Might I be dismissed? I would like to check on General Conure, in the hopes that I can be there when she wakes up."

"Yes, absolutely," Megatron allowed, nodding.  
"Thank you for staying."

"I should probably go as well," Tarn said, reluctantly, and made no move to leave. Flux rose, bowed, and bid both bots goodbye, exiting the room with subtly shaking fingers.

 

\----------------------

 

It was only after visiting Conure in the medbay and making it back to her room that Flux allowed herself to break down, falling to her knees in the floor and taking great, heaving, shuddering gasps of cool air. Her spark pounded like a scared petrorabbit, and her plating rattled like a bunch of empty tin cans in a mixer truck.

"Fuck," she huffed out, wide optics trained on the ground.  
"Fucking hell, I lived through that."

Her frame, however, didn't get the memo, forging ahead into panic, and she jumped at the knock on her door.  
"Flux?"

Megatron's voice was quiet.  
"Can you open the door? It's just me."

Flux hesitated. 

"Tarn is gone."

Flux didn't get off her knees to open the door, and when she did, she crawled back to subtly brace herself against her recharge slab, hugging herself in an attempt to stop the shaking. 

Megatron crossed the room, closing the door behind him, and knelt by where she was sitting.  
"I apologize for frightening you. That meeting wasn't intended to be a threat."

"A threat," Flux laughed, breathily and a bit unhinged.

"Tarn was here to give a report, since he and his were in the area, and he simply stayed longer than I expected."

His measured voice just served to anger Flux, and she lashed out, intending to punch him in the chest. As it was, she lightly clanked her fist against his badge, held it there, and burst into tears.  
"Fuck you," she gasped, head bowing.  
"Fuck you, I thought I was going to _die!_ I didn't see that as a _threat_ , or a _warning_ , I was ready to comm my will to General Regus, you monster!"

Megatron made a noise of sympathy, reaching to pet Flux's helm in soothing strokes. As much as she wanted to shove his servo away, she found she couldn't.  
"I'm sorry you thought I would do that to you."

"Megatron, you've been actively crafting that fear for a millennia and a half!" Flux cried, banging her fist against his chest again, in an impotent expression of rage. Megatron only reacted by continuing the soothing touches, and Flux broke down further into shuddering sobs, her plating still rattling with the force of her trembling.   
"I thought -- I thought I was going to die, and for _what?_ " She cried, fist unfurling to splay flat against Megatron's chest.  
"We haven't even won this accursed war, we've become an example of autocratic, genocidal _tyranny_ , and my servos are _stained-_ "

She went beyond words, wailing with such force Megatron subtly winced, grimacing. 

After she calmed to the point of not screaming like a banshee anymore, she sobbed wetly, and looked up at Megatron.  
"You were my friend," she mumbled, voice choked by betrayal. Megatron crooned softly, face twisting in sadness, as his hand circled around the bottom edge of her helm to grasp her chin.  
"Flux, I still am your friend, of course."

He paused, surveying her.  
"Flux, I think you're in hysterics. You've just had a traumatic experience, and I think you need to rest. You don't know what you're talking about."

She nodded, and Megatron produced a rag from his subspace, and passed it to her. She wiped her face with it, and he patted her shoulder. The lack of contact made Flux's spark ache, but Megatron didn't touch anybody like that anymore, platonically or not.   
"Keep it. Get some rest tonight, and report to Havoc in the morning. Your shift will be in the afternoon tomorrow. That gives you a few hours. Will you be alright if I leave you alone?"

"Are you able to stay?"

Megatron paused, and nodded.  
"I suppose."

He sat down next to her, and Flux tried to take measured breaths to calm her panicking frame down. She hiccuped frequently, and at first, Megatron rubbed her shoulder. Then, the hiccups eased off, and he took his hand away. 

As she calmed, Megatron hummed soothingly.  
"Are you feeling better?"

Flux nodded, swiping away residual tears.  
"Yeah. Thanks."

Megatron rose, and Flux did too, a little wobbly. Her liege grasped her hands in his own, and held her gaze fiercely.  
"Flux, you are absolutely one of my treasured friends, and an extremely competent Major General. That meeting was not intended to be a threat, or an assassination, and I need to know you believe me one-hundred percent."

Flux nodded, offering a fake smile, and Megatron relaxed.  
"Good. Get some rest, will you? It's been a long day."

 

\---------------------

 

“Gadget of Carthex,” the judge presiding over her case announced. She shifted on her pedes, wrists locked into block cuffs as she stood at the center of the panel. Her commanding officers were on it, and a small observation crowd was to the left. Gadget was painfully aware it contained ReDouble, Capacitor and Aberhalde. 

The judge continued, “You stand here accused of first degree murder and the murder of a mech who had previously surrendered. It is our understanding you have plead guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence. As such…”

Gadget snuck a quick look at her -- were they her friends?

Whatever they were, it was a mistake. ReDouble was hanging off Capacitor’s arm, distraught and betrayed. Aberhalde looked downright disappointed, and Capacitor couldn't have seemed more pleased.

“...As such, the court has deemed it fit to give you a sentence of half a million years, in a mid-security prison in the area. This concludes the session.”

Gadget flinched at the bang of the gavel, and allowed herself to be led out.


	10. I Had A Dream The Other Night, Where I Could See My Name In Lights, But Every Time I Get Close It Starts To Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this installment, but part two will keep to the schedule! I'm really excited for the upcoming sequel, and you'll see some new characters, too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this is so late. I got out of my parents' house for the spring semester, but my depression ain't takin a break at all, hahaha :]
> 
> anyways, im finally getting back into writing this, which is really nice. I do enjoy writing it and it's nice to be back. I've been writing more personal poems lately, actually, but i did kind of miss this story. That said, I have been coming up with new ideas like crazy! :)
> 
> enjoy! <3

 

When Gadget stepped foot back in the base after half a millennia served in prison, she made a beeline for ReDouble. Her track record of “making no friends” had carried over into prison, and they hadn’t spoken in ages. She missed the foggy little fellow. Her days seemed empty without getting to laugh at whatever distracted, inane mistake he’d made that day or chattering excitedly at whatever breakthrough they’d made together. Thankfully, she had her old position back, though severely limited. She was only allowed to code, and Redouble had to triple check her work.

 

The halls hadn’t changed very much. They were a steely gray, with metal-paneled floors and streamlined walls. They were wide, and nearly swallowed Gadget whole as she made her way through them, heels clicking smartly on the floor. After all, she was on the smaller end of the average spectrum.

 

When she arrived at the lab, the doors were open. They usually were, really. ReDouble liked the doors to be open. She poked her helm in the doorway to see ReDouble laughing with a group of friends, other lab interns. Some of them were new. Gadget didn't recognize all of the bots assembled.  Plating slimming down to her frame, she turned to leave, only to bump into Capacitor.

 

The plane grinned savagely, and Gadget backed up ‘til her back hit the wall, her heels clicking with panic. Capacitor advanced to trap her there. At the feeling of being pinned, Gadget’s screen fuzzed snow, arms bracing themselves against the wall. Her spark fluttered, thousands of other “pinned” scenarios flashing in her mind and constricting her intake. None of them were pleasant. Most of them stuffed fluff into her helm, chilling her brain module like slick, cold oil, in a dazed sort of terror. The air was sharp, her vents struggling to find cool air all of a sudden, and the blurriness of her screen worried her, just for a second, that she had her shitty government-issue single optic again.

 

“Heard you were back, you little scraplet,” Capacitor hissed, seeming to enjoy how on edge she put the empurata.  “ReDouble’s moved on. Doesn't care about you anymore. I think you should fuck off too.”

 

Gadget’s screen fuzzed snow.

“I’M WORKING IN THIS DIVISION AGAIN. BACK OFF.”

 

“Or you'll what?” Capacitor snarled quietly, surging forwards to wrap a hand around Gadget’s throat to mirror the feeling already there. At the empurata’s loud beep of alarm, she separated, and spat at her pedes, storming off. Gadget stayed tense as the plane stomped away, fuming. She wanted to run, or maybe even fight, but all her frame let her do at that moment was freeze up like a petrorabbit.

“You're the fucking worst Autobot I've ever seen,” Capacitor called over her shoulder. “It’s a wonder you didn't defect! Ah, there’s still hope yet!”

 

“ _ What _ is going  _ on _ out here…?” ReDouble asked, poking his head around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw Gadget, and his mouth dropped open.

 

Gadget tried to make a break for it -- it wasn't her shift, she didn't  _ have _ to be here -- but ReDouble cried out, grasping for her arm. It halted her in her tracks, and she turned to her friend.

“WHAT?”

 

“You're back?”

 

“YEAH.”

 

ReDouble beamed, tears welling, and brought her into a fierce hug.

  
  
  


\-------------------

  
  
  


Flux harrumphed, tapping the monitor screen on the bridge.   
“This console needs fixed.”

 

Megatron shot her an odd look, and she didn’t meet his eye. Fuck, it had slipped out again. It had been at least a few years since they had left earth, and she still couldn’t shake the accent she’d picked up. She wasn’t even aware that a “midwestern accent” could  _ translate _ into Neocybex. Of course, she had been stranded with only an organic adolescent for company. 

 

He was a nice kid. She missed him. But it didn’t do to remind Megatron of her sympathies any more than she had to, and so she had tried to tamp down the accent she’d picked up in the month that she’d spent stranded. And of course, she’d kept her subspace under lock and key. She had pictures, selfies taken with him, where, just for a little while, she could pretend that she had the option to give it all up. He’d sent them all to her before she’d had to leave.

 

“What was that, Major General?”

 

“This console is acting up, and needs fi -- needs to be fixed.”

Flux cleared her throat, rapping at the screen with her knuckles.

 

“It will be taken care of before your next shift. Is there something the matter? You’re speaking...oddly. Again.”

 

“I assure you, I am quite well,” Flux said like a doll, resenting the stiffness of the conversation. She didn’t even know who Megatron was anymore, it felt like. If this war went on any longer, she was going to throw herself headlong at the DJD and dare  _ them _ to kill her, if Megatron wouldn’t.

She left her shift after it was done, went back to her room, and slept fitfully.

  
  
  


\---------------------

  
  
  


Gadget and ReDouble were sitting in the mess hall with Capacitor, quietly talking amidst the room's chatter, when one of their commanding officers bolted in. All of his plating was puffed up, crackling with energy. It was the most unrestrained anybody had seen him.   
"Everyone -- it's over!  _ The war is over! _ "   
  
The room hushed instantly, the air hushing itself as well. The commander laughed giddily, spreading his arms.   
"Do you know what that means?  _ The war is over! _ "   
  
Chatter exploded amongst the crowd, and ReDouble and Capacitor leaned towards each other to hug tightly, instantly. Gadget felt a pang of bitterness. Sure, they were in love, but last week someone called Gadget “torch-face” and spent an hour fucking her while sucking on her claws, and nobody cared.   
  
"Oh, thank Primus," ReDouble breathed into Capacitor's chestplates, and across the table, Gadget sat straight-backed, screen blank. Maybe it was shock, but she felt a stunning amount of apathy. After all, the war had...always been. Well, not really -- Gadget had been around three hundred thousand years before all of this scrap -- but...after four whole million years, three hundred thousand seemed a bit piddly.   
  
ReDouble kissed Capacitor again, with sickening passion, and stood.   
"I've got to go let people know-"   
  
It seemed a bunch of other individuals had the same idea, and ReDouble, on his way out, was swept up in their throng. After they all left, the room was almost dead. A few older bots sat in clusters around the fringes of the room, too disheartened and relieved to celebrate. Gadget would have gone over to sit with them, but...well, she didn’t make friends. Something about her just...didn’t allow that. People spoke to her. They were nice to her, even, sometimes. But she could never get past “accquaintances”, except for Redouble, and Redouble came with  _ Capacitor _ .   
  
"Good thing it's over," said cargo plane sneered, leaning back in her seat.   
"If it had gone on any longer, I think you might've defected, Claws. You're the worst Autobot I've ever seen. Do you even care it's over?"   
  
Gadget sipped her fuel, and kept her screen very blank.   
  
"Hey, you know what this means, right? This marks four million years where you couldn't find one medic who can restructure hands-"   
  
Gadget shot to her feet, screen fuzzing, as she crushed the ration in her pincers and her intake panel slid back into place. Her spark pounded, fuel pump pounding in sync. The fuel rushed in her lines, roaring in her audials as the tiny antennae on her right audial twitched. The finials on either corner of her visor tilted back as far as they were able (not very) and she felt something in herself stop. Capacitor grinned, standing up to meet the challenge, puffing out her chestplates.   
"What, wanna do something about it?"   
  
"MAYBE I DO," Gadget droned, tilting her helm slowly, considering. Four million years of verbal abuse, and she had put down her helm and taken it. Physical threats, slurs, physical abuse, a campaign of discrimination designed to make her an alien in her own species, and Capacitor held the banner.   
  
Fuck that.   
  
In one abrupt move, she was shoving chairs out of the way to leap onto the table and deliver a rousing kick to Capacitor's faceplate. It clanged satisfyingly, the plating of the plane’s face denting as the old mecha near the fringes cried out with shock. The plane cried out, hand coming to cover her face as she staggered, and Gadget jumped her. They rolled on the floor, squealing and crying amidst the clang and groan of plating. Gadget's claws were particularly good for rending, she was just finding. A useful discovery, and rend they did, for all the tiny speedster was worth.   
  
A punch to her screen sent her staggering off of her main abuser, one claw coming up to cover her cracked visor. Her datacable slithered out of her arm, triple claws pinching, and surged forth to latch onto Capacitor's throat. The plane shrieked as Gadget pumped voltage through it, draining her own charge to do so. It left her exhausted, burning more and more fuel, but the way Capacitor writhed and jittered on the ground sent sick, vicious pleasure through her lines.    
  
Finally, when she couldn't keep it up any more, Gadget retracted the cable, and stumbled backwards, falling onto her back spread-eagle.   
  


  
  


\-----------------------------

  
  
  


Megatron slammed back a hard shot of something tank-corroding, and made a face. He hadn’t had any sort of intoxicant for millennia. Seeing his composure crumble now did next to nothing to stir Flux’s tanks. She felt nothing for this...creature, anymore. Nothing but anger, and hurt, and guilt, and betrayal. He had taken her loyalty and used it as a dishcloth to wipe his stained servos upon.

 

“Starscream’s left,” Megatron said, slumped against the table. He wasn’t drunk. Flux didn’t move, still standing stiffly with her hands behind her back.

 

“Indeed he has. Funny thing. I suppose he didn’t enjoy being treated the way he was, don’tcha know. Conure has left as well.”

 

“Any more of your units?”

 

“No. They are staying for me. Conure informed us she couldn’t stay and she left. We agreed she was being rational.”

 

“And you are leaving too, I presume?”

 

Flux ground her dentals. He had no  _ right _ to sound as  _ dead _ and  _ dejected _ as he did. No right. She hated it and she hated  _ him _ and she  _ missed _ him and -

 

“No. I am staying. I am simply duty-bound to report the matter.”

Her vocalizer glitched halfway through, a small hitch. Her voice hiccuped a bit, cold and harsh and angry.

 

“Fuck, Flux, what have I turned you into,” Megatron vented, harshly and heavily as he scrubbed his eyes. “What have I done?”

 

“I think,” she cut, icily, “Lord Megatron, I have been telling you what you’ve done all along. Seems like you finally decided your behavior needs fixed.”

 

Megatron was silent for a few moments.

“You should go.”

 

Flux snorted. Ah, how usual of him, to dismiss her the second he heard something he didn’t like. He wasn’t like this, before war had warped him into something disgusting. 

“Typical.”

 

“No, I mean leave,” Megatron said, a little more forcefully. “You should  _ leave _ .”

 

Flux’s eyes widened, and then narrowed, fuel boiling in her lines. Leave? He was telling her to leave, as some sort of pity-guilt gesture? After everything, and this was how it was over? He got to absolve part of his guilty conscience and stroke himself to the fact that he had a ‘ _ scrap of good _ ’ left in him by the end of it, or  _ whatever? _

 

“Megatron, you can’t seriously expect me to just-”

 

“ _ Go! _ ” He roared, smashing the glass against the floor, his red optics trained on her like twin, unhinged suns. They were just this side of detached, slightly out of focus, reeling with emotions that Flux barely had names for and that Megatron had likely never felt before.

 

Something else died in her spark, and she went cold, face relaxing. She bowed, fist reverently over her badge as if to spare it from Megatron’s sickness.

“As you wish, my liege. I would request that you make sure Conure doesn’t make it onto the List -- that is, if you still have the power.”

 

“None of your units will,” Megatron dismissed tiredly, waving a servo. “And neither will you. Just go.”

 

Flux stayed bent over for a moment, staring at the floor so Megatron didn’t see tears well.

“Goodbye, Megatron. I hope you life a long, long, life, fully aware of what you’ve done. I know I will, however long I have left.”

 

And she left, pedesteps measured and steady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks! Well, for this run. What's going to happen now that the war is over? Stay tuned to find out!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own transformers, i do own the original characters listed in this work. thanks for coming to my ted talk :]
> 
> (Update 12/10/17: I'm editing the chapters i have up now to make Gadget's helm the standard empurata optic. I've finally started reading MTMTE and holy shit! it's every bit as wonderful as i was expecting and if you haven't bought it already i highly recommend you do. Okay, plug over. 
> 
> Gadget's visor setup will make a reappearance!)
> 
> (Update 2/7/18: Hello! Flux's backstory has been updated. It now includes her history of having a minor seat on the Conclave for the beginning of the war. She served an unusually short term for someone considered so promising, stepping down and citing moral quandaries.)


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